presented  In  the 

I  IBBARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 
FRIl.NDS  OFTIIL  LIBRARY 

MR.   JOHN  C.   ROSE 


donor 


3  1822  01049  3740 


DALLY 


BY 


MARIA   LOUISE   POOL 

AUTHOR  OF  "TENTING  AT  STONY  BEACH' 


NEW   YORK 

HARPER  &    BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN   SQUARE 
1891 


Copyright,  1891,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  i-ightf  reserved. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  WIDDER  'BIJAH'S  GUEST  ....      i 

II.    MRS.  WlNSLOW  AND   THE  WlDOW   DIS- 
AGREE     13 

III.  How  DALLY  KEPT  HER  PUPPY    ...    25 

IV.  DALLY  TAKES  THE  PLEDGE     ....    36 
V.  DALLY  AND  MARIETTA  HAVE  A  GOOD 

TIME 51 

VI.  MRS.  PETER  WINSLOW  SUSPECTS     .    .    65 
VII.  MR.    PETER    WINSLOW    WARNS    THE 

WIDOW 78 

VIII.  DALLY  CONFESSES 91 

IX.  MRS.  WINSLOW  OFFERS  A  FEW  POR- 
TERS      106 

X.  A  NEW-COMER  AT  THE  WIDOW'S.    .    .119 

XI.  MR.  DODSON  GIVES  BARKER  A  LIFT    .  133 

XII.  WHAT  BARKER  BROUGHT  TO  DALLY  .  146 


iv  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XIII.  MR.  DODSON  ACTS  UPON  HIS  ID 

XIV.  GROWN  UP  .    .    

XV.  MARIETTA'S  LOVER 

XVI.  THODOR'S  CONFESSION  .    .    .    . 

XVII.  THE  Two  GIRLS 

XVIII.  MRS.  WINSLOW'S  NEMESIS     .    . 

XIX.  DALLY'S  ANSWER 

XX.  BARKER   SETTLES   WITH  THE 

SONS 

XXI.  CONCLUSION. 


I 

If 

20 

DALLY 

3' 

4. 

I 

THE  WIDDER  'BIJAH'S  GUEST 

HEN  people  wished  to  speak  of  Mrs. 
Abijah  Jacobs  in  a  way  that  was  at 
once  descriptive  and  polite,  they 
called  her  a  "widow  lady."  It  was  univer- 
sally felt  that  the  term  widow  by  itself  did 
not  sufficiently  indicate  that  the  bereaved 
object  was  an  individual  of  the  human  spe- 
cies, and  of  the  female  sex.  There  were  some 
who  allowed  themselves  to  say  "  widow 
woman,"  but  these  were  careless  in  their 
speech,  and  not  to  be  considered  on  this 
occasion. 

In  common,  everyday  talk,  however,  Mrs. 
Jacobs  was  always  mentioned  as  the  "  Wid- 
ier  "Bijah,"  to  distinguish  her  from  two  oth- 
er \vomen  who  had  married  men  by  the  name 
i 


2  DALLY 

of  Jacobs  in  Ransom,  and  from  whom  Provi- 
dence had  wrested  their  partners. 

The  Widder  'Bijah  was  fat  and  thrifty, 
and  had  a  shrewd  cast  to  her  right  eye  which 
gave  her  an  appearance  of  winking  sometimes 
when  she  would  not  have  winked  for  all  the 
world.  It  was  by  reason  of  the  appearance 
of  this  eye  that  Mr.  H.  F.  Turner,  proprietor 
of  the  one  store  at  Ransom,  a  widower — I 
am  tempted  to  say  a  widower  gentleman — 
was  impressed  with  the  ineradicable  convic- 
tion that  Mrs.  Jacobs  encouraged  him  even 
at  the  very  funeral  of  Abijah,  on  which  oc- 
casion he  acted  as  one  of  the  bearers.  It 
is  probable  that  nothing  will  ever  convince 
him  that  he  was  not  winked  at  at  that  time. 
It  is  true  that  when  he  called,  on  the  strength 
of  that  look,  a  week  or  two  later,  the  cold- 
ness of  his  reception  was  not  favorable  to 
the  belief  he  had  formed.  Mrs.  Jacobs  was 
hardly  civil,  and  she  persevered  in  that  man- 
ner on  all  the  occasions  when  she  was  obliged 
to  go  to  his  store.  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
though  Mr.  Turner  did  not  again  call,  with 
true  masculine  self-appreciation  he  always 
had  a  firm  belief  that  Mrs.  Jacobs  really  was 
fond  of  him,  but  that  for  some  reason  she 


DALLY  3 

had  made  up  her  mind  not  to  yield  to  that 
fondness,  and  when  this  woman  had  made 
up  her  mind,  all  who  knew  her  said  "  it  wa'n't 
no  use."  So  H.  F.  Turner  turned  his  thoughts 
towards  some  one  else  who,  though  a  good 
housekeeper,  had  not  so  much  of  this  world's 
goods. 

In  the  year  following  the  death  of  Mr.  Ja- 
cobs his  relict  had  several  opportunities  to 
marry  again.  It  appeared  to  be  understood 
in  the  neighborhood  that  the  time  to  con- 
sole a  widow  was  when  she  was  mourning; 
it  was  not  wise  to  wait  till  she  began  to  "perk 
up  of  her  own  self." 

But  Mrs.  Jacobs  refused  all  offers  of  con- 
solation. She  said  she  could  take  care  of 
herself,  and  she  could  take  care  of  her  farm, 
and  she  guessed  somebody  else  would  suit 
better. 

She  went  to  every  service  which  was  held 
in  the  Congregational  Church  at  Ransom. 
She  was  always  present  at  the  Tuesday  even- 
ing prayer-meeting,  at  every  "  preparatory 
lecture,"  at  the  Sunday-school,  even  at  the 
choir-meetings,  where  she  sat  and  heard  the 
sopranos  try  to  toss  their  voices  entirely  out 
of  reach  of  the  bass  and  alto  singers.  She 


DALLY 


invariably  contributed  ten  cents  to  every- 
thing. She  bought  a  ticket  every  time  there 
was  an  "apron-party"  or  a  "necktie-party" 
in  the  vestry,  such  entertainments  being  of 
frequent  necessity  in  order  to  eke  out  the 
minister's  salary.  But  she  never  went  to 
those  parties.  She  said  she  would  rather  "  set 
V  toast  her  feet  to  home."  So  she  gave  her 
ticket  to  some  young  person  to  whom  it  was 
a  treat  to  see  and  hear  three  or  four  "  fellers 
and  girls  "  speak  a  dialogue  which  they  had 
imperfectly  learned,  and  where  they  were 
sure  to  giggle  in  the  wrong  place. 

She  was  one  who  said  she  was  "  bound  to 
do  good  if  it  killed  her."  She  would  allow 
paupers  from  the  almshouse,  who  were  "  long- 
ing for  a  change,"  to  come  to  her  house  and 
make  long  visits.  What  she  endured  with 
some  of  them  she  never  told  any  one.  The  ut- 
most she  was  ever  heard  to  say  on  the  subject 
was  after  a  particularly  trying  visitation,  when 
she  remarked  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  "  there  was  generally  a  reason  why  folks 
come  on  to  the  town ;  it  wa'n't  all  misfortune ; 
there  was  some  deviltry  mixed  up  with  it." 

Thus  it  was  natural  enough  that  Mrs.  Lan- 
der, who  lived  in  New  York,  and  who  board- 


DALLY  5 

ed  with  the  Widder  'Bijah  a  few  weeks  in 
summer,  should  send  Dally  out  to  the  old 
farmhouse  in  Ransom.  Mrs.  Lander  found 
Dally  on  "White  Crow  Mounting,"  living  a 
brute's  life  with  a  woman  called  "Ole  Tid  " 
and  a  boy  named  Barker,  who  was  said  to  be 
Daily's  brother.  White  Crow  Mounting  was 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  spots  in  West- 
ern North  Carolina-,  picturesque  spots  some- 
times harbor  strange  vermin. 

The  child  was  almost  like  a  little  flower 
to  look  at.  It  is  the  owners  of  pretty  faces 
who  stand  the  best  chance  of  being  rescued 
from  unhappiness.  Mrs.  Lander  took  Dally ; 
she  left  Barker  to  get  along  as  best  he  might. 
She  forgot  the  boy,  who  was  not  interesting, 
though  perhaps  he  also  had  a  soul  to  save. 
But  the  lady  may  have  thought  she  could 
not  save 'all  those  wretched  mountain  chil- 
dren, so  she  would  select  a  pleasing  speci- 
men. 

"  Yes,  send  her  on,"  wrote  Mrs.  Jacobs 
in  answer  to  Mrs.  Lander's  letter. 

The  work-worn  heart  leaped  in  a  strange 
way  when  the  sharp,  kindly  eyes  above  it 
looked  out  of  the  window  one  rainy  morn- 
ing a  whole  day  earlier  than  the  child  had 


6  DALLY 

been  expected.  Those  eyes  saw  a  girl  of 
thirteen  or  fourteen,  completely  covered  by 
a  plaid  cloak  too  large  for  her,  with  hair  and 
eyebrows  dripping  with  rain,  trying  to  open 
the  gate  which  led  to  the  neatly-kept  door- 
yard. 

The  Widder  'Bijah  dropped  the  strip  of 
rug  she  was  braiding  and  hurried  to  the  door. 

"  Lift  up  the  latch  from  the  inside,"  she 
cried  out.  "  It  kinder  ketches  when  it's 
wet." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  a  sweet  voice ; 
and,  the  latch  having  been  lifted  from  the 
inside,  the  new-comer  walked  up  the  narrow 
planking  that  made  the  path,  and  held  out 
an  envelope  addressed  in  Mrs.  Lander's  tall, 
angular  handwriting. 

"  I  s'pose  you  come  from  North  Caroliny  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Come  right  in  'n'  take  off  that  drippin' 
cloak ;  'n'  I  s'pose  your  feet  are  soppin'  wet, 
ain't  they?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

The  girl  still  stood  hesitating  at  the  door 
of  the  kitchen,  and  when  Mrs.  Jacobs  put 
out  her  hand  and  drew  her  forward  she  shrank 


DALLY  7 

back  involuntarily,  as  a  horse  will  shrink 
which  has  been  treated  cruelly. 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  child,  you  don't  ex- 
pect I'm  going  to  strike  you,  do  ye?"  cried 
the  woman,  her  quick  eyes  rightly  interpret- 
ing the  movement. 

The  kind  voice  made  Dally  tremble. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  she  said,  humbly,  "  I  reck- 
oned yo'  war  gwine  ter  hit  me.  I'm  used  ter 
bein'  hit." 

"  Gracious !" 

With  this  exclamation  Mrs.  Jacobs  almost 
roughly  removed  Daily's  cloak  and  hat,  which 
articles  she  carried  from  the  room  and  hung 
in  the  porch.  She  stood  there  a  moment 
looking  at  them. 

"  It's  the  dearest  little  face  I  ever  saw," 
she  whispered  to  herself.  "  She'll  make  a 
fool  of  me.  I  know.  I  always  was  weak- 
minded  'bout  them  faces  with  soft  white 
skin,  'n'  light  hair,  'n'  brown  eyes.  Oh,  I  do 
hope  she  won't  turn  out  to  be  an  imp  of 
Satan !  She's  a  regular  heathen,  of  course. 
I'll  take  her  to  the.  choir-meet'n  to-morrer 
night.  I  s'pose  she  never  lived  on  much 
but  clay  yet." 

It  was  Mrs.  Jacobs's  conviction  that  peo- 


DALLY 


pie  who  dwelt  in  the  Southern  States,  which 
she  invariably  spoke  of  as  "  below  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line,"  were  always  clay-eaters.  In 
this  particular  instance  this  article  of  diet 
had  produced  a  pleasing  effect. 

In  ten  minutes  from  her  arrival  Dally  was 
sitting  with  her  feet  on  the  kitchen  stove,  a 
little  shoulder-shawl  belonging  to  her  host- 
ess over  her,  while  she  sipped  some  ginger- 
tea.  It  occurred  to  Mrs.  Jacobs  that  ginger- 
tea  would  counteract  any  ill  effects  which 
might  come  from  change  of  climate. 

Dally  drank  the  tea  as  copiously  as  she 
could.  She  finally  held  out  the  huge  bowl 
towards  her  companion  and  said,  piteously, 
that  she  did  wish  she  had  "  er  bit  er  corn 
pone,  'n'  er  drop  er  grease.  She  was  that 
hungry  she  b'lieved  she  could  chaw  urp  er 
mule-strop." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  started  and  said  :  "  Gracious !" 
again,  much  as  a  man  might  have  said,  "  the 
devil !" 

She  darted  to  the  buttery,  and  brought 
out  a  plate  of  cold  corned  beef  and  one  of 
bread.  The  child  attacked  the  food  like  a 
famished  creature,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  stood 
looking  at  her. 


DALLY  9 

"  I  almost  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  know 
what  to  do  with  Yankee  victuals,"  she  said 
at  last,  and  then  added,  "  but  I  see  you 
do." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Dally,  with  her  mouth 
full. 

When  she  had  eaten  more  than  she  had 
ever  eaten  before  at  one  time  in  her  life,  she 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  said,  with  pre- 
cisely the  same  manner  with  which  she  would 
have  asked  for  a  drink  of  water : 

"  Please,  I'll  have  just  er  sup  at  some  whis- 
key now.  Don't  go  ter  weaken'  it  noan." 

The  Widder  'Bijah  seemed  to  grow  pale 
as  she  heard  those  words  from  those  lovely 
pink  lips.  She  belonged  to  all  the  temper- 
ance societies  that  had  ever  been  started  in 
Ransom.  She  did  not  believe  that  anything 
save  the  last  stages  of  consumption  would 
justify  a  person  in  taking  whiskey. 

Dally,  meeting  that  horrified  look,  gradu- 
ally grew  redder  and  redder,  until  at  last  she 
put  her  grimy,  hard  little  hands  over  her  face 
and  burst  into  violent  weeping,  crying  out 
in  a  strangled  voice  that  she  "  wa'n't  no  pi- 
son  adder  that  she  must  be  looked  at  like 
that !" 


I0  DALLY 

Mrs.  Jacobs  was  wise  enough  not  to  say 
anything  on  the  subject.  She  advised  that 
the  child  should  lie  down  on  the  lounge  and 
take  a  nap,  as  she  must  be  all  worn  out. 

When  Dally  was  fast  asleep,  which  was 
immediately,  Mrs.  Jacobs  drew  out  Mrs.  Lan- 
der's letter  from  her  pocket  and  sat  by  the 
lounge  with  it  in  her  hand  for  some  time  be- 
fore she  opened  it.  She  was  gazing  at  the 
face  on  the  patchwork  pillow ;  for  the  mo- 
ment all  the  shrewdness  was  gone  from  her 
eyes,  and  only  the  kindness  remained.  The 
daughter  she  had  never  had,  but  whom  she 
had  longed  for  through  years  of  practical 
humdrum  life,  almost  seemed  before  her 
now  in  the  person  of  this  little  waif  from 
North  Carolina.  Oh,  yes,  she  would  take 
her,  she  would  keep  her.  No  need  to  ask  if 
she  would  keep  her.  The  child  was  no  bet- 
ter than  a  heathen,  no  doubt,  and  must  be 
converted  and  go  to  all  the  meetings,  and  in 
due  time  be  a  member  of  the  church.  But 
how  and  where  did  she  get  that  bewitch- 
ingly  sweet  face  and  that  bewitchingly  sweet 
voice?  How  could  she  creep  straight  into 
one's  heart,  as  she  had  done  now?  Why 
was  there  not  something  coarse  in  her  feat- 


DALLY  H 

ures  or  in  her  expression  ?  And  she  asking 
for  whiskey? 

If  Mrs.  Jacobs  could  have  seen  Daily's 
mountain  home  and  Ole  Tid,  she  would  have 
asked  these  questions  even  more  emphatic- 
ally than  she  had  now  asked  them. 

Mrs.  Lander  wrote  in  a  rather  sentimental 
way  that  she  hoped  and  believed  that  Dally 
would  be  like  the  perfume  of  a  rich  blossom 
in  Mrs.  Jacobs's  life.  She  said,  also,  she 
should  insist  upon  helping  in  the  expense 
of  bringing  up  the  child,  since  her  dear  friend 
was  so  good  as  to  take  the  care.  And  she 
enclosed  a  check. 

The  woman,  reading  the  letter,  felt  a  curi- 
ous sensation  of  angry  jealousy  as  she  looked 
at  the  check. 

"  I  ain't  so  poor  but  I  can  take  care  of 
her,  I  guess,"  she  said,  aloud.  "  And  very 
likely  I  shall  need  a  sight  of  patience,  too," 
she  added. 

Before  the  next  twenty-four  hours  were 
gone,  she  had  an  overwhelming  sense  that  a 
"  sight  of  patience,"  much  as  that  was,  was 
not  enough.  She  would  not  tell  any  human 
being,  but  she  told  God  in  her  prayers  that, 
if  He  didn't  send  His  grace  down  in  running- 


12 


DALLY 


over  measure,  she  did  not  know  what  she 
should  do  with  that  Caroliny  gal. 

But  as  she  rose  from  her  knees  she  breathed 
out,  "  I  can't  help  loving  her,  though." 


II 

MRS.  WINSLOW  AND  THE  WIDDER  DISAGREE 

SHOULDN'T  wonder  if  'twas 
quite  a  spell  before  she  was  any 
comfort  to  ye.  Did  she  do  that  ?" 

The  speaker  was  holding  up  a  strip  of 
patchwork  that  was  drawn  and  puckered 
until  it  bore  no  semblance  whatever  to,  the 
precious  thing  it  ought  to  have  resembled. 
She  was  standing  in  the  Widder  'Bijah's 
kitchen,  and  the  Widder  'Bijah  was  stand- 
ing with  her,  and  looking  at  the  same  piece 
of  work  left  by  Daily's  hands  when  the  girl 
started  for  school  that  morning. 

"Did  she  do  that?"  repeated  Mrs.  Wins- 
low,  with  even  more  severity. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  "she  done  that, 
and  she  really  seemed  to  try." 

Mrs.  Winslow  sniffed  very  audibly.  She 
put  down  the  dreadful  strip  of  patchwork  in 
the  basket.  She  said  there  wa'n't  no  gal 
round  but  could  have  made  a  whole  bed- 


I4  DALLY 

quilt  long  'fore  she  was  Daily's  age.  She  said 
patchwork  was  the  one  thing  it  was  neces- 
sary for  a  gal  to  know.  She  should  have 
died  of  shame  if  Marietta  had  done  that, 
and  she  motioned  towards  the  basket. 

"  You  must  remember  that  Dally  ain't  had 
no  bringing-up,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  in  a  de- 
pressed manner.  "  I  guess  there  wa'n't  nev- 
er no  Winslow  but  could  have  made  calico 
squares  in  their  cradles.  You  know  Daily's 
nothin'  but  a  Caroliny  gal." 

"You  missed  it  dreadfully  takin'  of  her. 
I  feel  to  thank  the  Lord  every  day  that  I've 
ben  saved  from  takin'  of  her." 

"You've  a  great  many  mercies  of  that 
kind  to  be  thankful  for,"  returned  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs, in  a  tone  that  made  her  caller  cringe 
somehow,  and  which  caused  her  to  remem- 
ber that  she  had,  as  she  said,  "  some  bread 
a-risin',  and  must  hurry  home." 

At  the  door  she  turned  back  to  ask  if  it 
were  true  that  Dally  hadn't  no  last  name  and 
no  father. 

Mrs.  Jacobs's  eyes  flashed.  The  eye  that 
naturally  squinted  opened  very  wide. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  it's  jest  as  true  as 
that  your  father  V  mother  quarrelled  so's 


DALLY  15 

the  neighbors  had  to  interfere  nigh  every 
day  of  their  lives.  As  for  my  part,  I'd  just 
as  leeves  have  no  father  at  all  as  one  that  'd 
beat  his  wife  with  a  beef's  tongue,  's  your's 
used  ter;  'n'  milk-pails  throwin'  at  her  head !" 

Mrs.  Winslow  glared  a  moment,  and  then 
she  hurried  away,  while  Mrs.  Jacobs  went 
back  to  her  kitchen  and  sat  down  to  repent 
of  her  hasty  speech. 

She  took  up  the  poor  little  puckered  sew- 
ing and  looked  at  it.  As  she  did  so  she 
recalled  how  Dally  had  cried  because  she 
couldn't  make  it  even  ;  how  the  small  fin- 
gers had  trembled  in  anxiety  as  they  had 
worked. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  now  had  Dally  nearly  two 
weeks,  and  those  weeks  had  been  one  round 
of  excitement  for  the  Yankee  woman,  who 
had  never  conceived  that  any  human  creature 
could  be  quite  so  ignorant  and  shiftless  as  this 
child  was.  Was  it  possible  that  there  were 
people  in  the  world  who  didn't  know  how 
to  mix  doughnuts  ;  who  thought  corn-bread 
was  better  than  "  light-bread ;"  who  called 
tomatoes  "  poma-toes ;"  who  spoke  of  noth- 
ing as  "  meat  "  but  bacon  ;  who  asked  where 
things  "  were  at ;"  who  called  going  to  meet- 


!6  DALLY 

ing  "  gvvine  to  preachin' ;"  who  called  a  har- 
ness "  the  gears ;"  who  spoke  of  kindling  a 
lamp  as  "  makin'  er  light." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  dared  not  go  on  with  this 
kind  of  meditation,  for  she  felt  if  she  did  so 
she  should  flounder  hopelessly  in  the  accu- 
mulation of  memories  of  the  strange  things 
Dally  was  saying  and  doing  all  the  time. 

Only  the  night  before,  it  was  not  until 
Dally  had  gone  to  bed  that  she  remembered 
that  she  had  not  brought  in  the  dry  wood 
for  making  the  fire  in  the  morning.  Sud- 
denly Mrs.  Jacobs  saw  a  figure  with  bare 
feet  and  in  its  night-gown  flying  through 
the  kitchen  and  out  of  doors.  Before  she 
could  collect  herself  and  follow,  Dally  had 
returned,  bearing  an  armful  of  "  pine  trash." 

"  I  done  forgot  ter  tote  thur  wood,"  she 
explained,  and  was  going  back  to  her  bed 
with  her  feet  wet  with  mud  and  snow. 

She  could  hardly  be  made  to  comprehend 
why  a  tub  must  be  brought  and  her  feet 
washed. 

"Mighty  king!"  she  cried  out  at  last, 
"we  don't  do  that-a-way  in  Calliny.  Ole 
Tid  would  er  let  me  car*  er  load  er  mud  ter 
bed  fur  all  of  her  a  carin'." 


DALLY  r; 

It  seemed  incredible  to  Mrs.  Jacobs  that 
she  must  instruct  a  girl  of  fourteen  that  she 
should  not  go  out  in  her  night  clothes  of  a 
March  night  and  bring  in  wood,  even  though 
she  had  forgotten  to  do  so  previously. 

"And  as  to  that,"  went  on  the  Widder 
'Bijah,  with  painful  earnestness,  "  don't  ever 
get  up,  even  in  summer,  and  leave  the  house 
without  dressin'.  What  shall  I  do  with  you? 
You  make  me  think  of  the  prayer-book  Mrs. 
Lander  uses." 

Dally  was  sitting  with  her  feet  in  a  tub 
of  water  and  with  an  enormous  gray  shawl, 
which  had  belonged  to  Abijah,  wrapped 
around  her  shoulders.  Her  light  hair  was 
all  in  a  fluff  about  her  face,  and  her  brown 
eyes  were  penitent  and  wondering.  At  this 
mention  of  the  prayer-book  she  laughed  a 
little.  She  said  she  didn't  see  how  such  a 
"  triflin'  critter"  as  she  was  could  make  any- 
body think  of  anything  so  good  as  a  prayer- 
book  must  be. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  could  not  help  smiling  fondly 
into  those  young  eyes,  which  met  hers  so 
frankly. 

"You  needn't  think  that,"  she  answer- 
ed, laughing  out  as  she  spoke,  with  a  sense 

2 


X8  DALLY 

of  happiness  she  could  hardly  understand. 
"  'Tain't  much  of  a  compliment  to  you  what 
I  thought.  'Twas  where  it  says  leavin'  un- 
done things  you  ought  ter  do,  'n'  doin'  them 
things  you  hadn't  ought  ter  do.  You're  up 
to  that  kind  of  actions  'bout  all  the  time." 

The  smile  died  out  of  Daily's  face. 

"Yo*  ain't  gwine  ter  be  sorry  yo'  took 
me,  be  yo'  ?"  she  asked,  her  lips  quivering. 

The  thrifty  Yankee  looked  at  the  "  triflin' 
critter  "  and  said  : 

"Sorry?  Gracious,  no!  I'm  thankful 
every  day  of  my  life.  Though  you  be  try- 
in',  Dally." 

The  girl  sprang  out  of  her  tub  of  water, 
making  a  dreadful  splash  as  she  did  so.  She 
flung  her  arms  round  her  friend's  neck  and 
hugged  her  convulsively. 

"  I  never  knowed  folks  could  be  so  good," 
she  sobbed,  "  an'  I  do  try  every  day  not  ter 
be  so  triflin'.  Yo'  see  I  was  let  to  be  so. 
I'm  jest  like  er  fyst  I  used  ter  have." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  held  her  close  a  moment,  and 
then  she  hurried  her  off  to  bed  and  returned 
to  mop  up  the  water  which  had  been  spilled. 
Something  troubled  her  as  she  did  so.  When 
the  floor  was  dry  she  hastened  into  the  lit- 


DALLY  jg 

tie  bedroom  where  Dally  lay.  She  saw  the 
shining  of  her  eyes,  so  she  had  no  hesitation 
in  saying : 

"  Be  you  awake?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  You  said  you  was  jest  like  a  fyst.  Now, 
what  is  a  fyst?" 

She  anxiously  awaited  the  reply,  which 
came  quickly  enough. 

"  Law  me !  It's  only  er  little  dog.  My 
Jinny  was  jest  like  that  yo"  said  thur  prayer- 
book  said — an'  like  me,  yo'  know.  Oh,  I  do 
wish  I  could  have  a  pup !  Bill  Winslow's 
got  two — houn's,  they  be.  He  said  as  he 
would  like  ter  give  me  one.  Kin  I  hev  it?" 

"You  needn't  have  no  Winslow  pups," 
said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  with  some  asperity.  "  But 
I'll  see  'bout  one,  somehow." 

When  the  widow  looked  in  the  room 
again  an  hour  later,  at  precisely  nine  o'clock, 
she  was  surprised  to  find  Dally  still  awake 
and  evidently  crying. 

"  'Tain't  nothin'  yoVe  done,"  she  hastened 
to  say,  "  but  I  war  er  thinkin'  that  mabby 
yo'  couldn't  hev  both,  er  puppy  an'  Barker, 
an'  I'd  hev  Barker — though  I  do  lurv  pups 
so!  Ef  yo'  could  hev  him,yo'  know." 


20  DALLY 

"Who  in  the  world  is  Barker?"  questioned 
Mrs.  Jacobs,  in  great  surprise. 

"  He's  my  brother — down  ter  ole  Tid's. 
He  war  left  thur  when  thur  lady  took  me." 

But  Mrs.  Jacobs  shrank  from  the  thought 
of  Barker. 

"  Is  he  like  you?"  she  asked. 

"  He  ain't  nigh  so  pooty,"  was  the  guile- 
less response. 

"  I  think's  likely,"  said  the  other,  smiling. 

"An'  folks  use  ter  say  he  war  kind  of  er 
heifer,  yo'  know." 

"  Kind  of  er  heifer?"  repeated  Mrs.  Jacobs. 
"  I  thought  you  said  he  was  your  brother." 

"Yes,  ma'am.  He  is.  But  ole  Tid,  an' 
they,  use  ter  call  him  'Yo'  sullen  heifer, yo'.' 
But  it  war  the  way  he  war  brought  urp." 

"  I  d'  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean  they  didn't  like  him,"  replied 
Dally,  unable  to  explain  that  in  North  Caro- 
lina to  call  a  person  "  a  heifer,"  and  particu- 
larly if  you  prefix  the  word  "sullen,"  is  to 
use  a  term  of  great  reproach. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  tucked  the  clothes  round  the 
girl,  kissed  her  and  told  her  they  wouldn't 
talk  any  more  that  night. 

It   was    all    this,  and    more,  which    Mrs. 


DALLY  21 

Jacobs  was  thinking  about  as  she  sat  idle 
for  a  full  half-hour  after  Mrs.  Winslow  left 
her.  She  did  not  wonder  that  the  neighbors 
pitied  her,  and  thanked  God  they  had  been 
spared  the  "takin'  of  Dally."  But,  as  the 
lonely  woman  told  herself,  "  they  only  saw 
the  trial  part  of  it ;  they  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  the  comfort  of  it."  What  could 
they  know  of  the  thrill  of  long  unused  ten- 
derness that  woke  in  that  heart  when  Dally 
put  her  arms  round  Mrs.  Jacobs's  neck  and 
kissed  her  with  a  lavish  fondness  that  could 
not  be  other  than  real  ? 

The  widow  suddenly  flung  out  one  hand 
with  a  rare  impetuousness  of  gesture. 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  think,  or  what 
they  say !"  she  cried.  "  I  guess  I  know 
what  I'm  about,  'n'  I'll  keep  the  child  if  it 
kills  me !" 

It  was  really  very  wearing,  however,  to 
find  the  next  day,  which  was  Saturday,  when 
there  was  no  school,  that  the  dinner  dishes, 
which  she  had  packed  into  the  sink  to  be 
washed,  were  all  gone.  She  knew  Dally  had 
not  washed  them.  But  where  were  they? 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  just  returned  from  run- 
ning down  the  road  to  see  how  Miss  Bently 


22  DALLY 

was.  Dally  entered  the  house  at  about  the 
same  time,  and  was  singing  a  camp-meeting 
tune.  When  asked  where  the  dishes  were, 
she  responded  promptly  that  she  had  just 
put  them  "  in  thur  branch." 

Poor  Widder  'Bijah  sat  down  suddenly, 
feeling  weak  and  helpless.  She  asked  what 
the  branch  was,  and  after  some  explanation 
she  understood  that  it  was  the  brook  which 
ran  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  back  of  the  house. 
The  dishes,  including  silver  spoons,  were  de- 
posited in  the  stream,  that  the  running  wa- 
ter might  clean  them.  Not  only  had  Dally 
done  this  thing,  but  she  had  advised  Mariet- 
ta Winslow  to  use  the  branch  near  her  house 
for  the  same  purpose,  as  dish-washing  was  so 
tiresome.  The  two  girls  were  going  to  re- 
port to  each  other  at  school  on  Monday. 
But  they  were  not  obliged  to  wait  until 
Monday.  Before  Dally  and  her  friend  could 
start  to  the  brook  in  the  hope  of  saving  at 
least  the  spoons,  the  door  was  flung  violent- 
ly open,  and  Mrs.  Winslow,  gripping  her 
daughter  Marietta  by  the  hand,  entered. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  immediately  rose  to  the  oc- 
casion. She  felt  that  she  might  be  put 
down  by  some  folks,  but  not  by  old  Silas 


DALLY  23 

Jones's  daughter.  She  told  Mrs.  Winslow 
she  hoped  she'd  set  right  down  and  make 
her  a  little  visit. 

Mrs.  Winslow  snorted.  She  seemed  strug- 
gling to  speak  coherently.  At  last  she  said 
it  wa'n't  no  time  for  visitin' ;  that  she 
s'posed  all  her  pink  chiny  was  gone  to  the 
old  Harry,  to  say  nothin'  of  her  grand- 
mother's silver  spoons.  "  'N'  all  owin'  to 
that  Caroliny  gal,"  pointing  at  Dally,  who 
had  exchanged  one  anxious  glance  with 
Marietta,  and  now  stood  with  flushed  face 
and  drooped  head. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  was  very  calm,  and  almost 
sweet,  as  she  advised  her  caller  to  wait  a 
few  minutes  till  she  could  speak  a  little 
plainer,  'n'  not  come  so  nigh  swearin'. 

Mrs.  Winslow  swallowed  two  or  three 
times  before  she  could  say  that  she  came  to 
tell  Miss  Jacobs  that  "  if  she  caught  that 
Dally  ever  speakin'  to  her  Marietta  or 
any  of  her  children  again,  she  would — she 
would — "  here  she  swallowed  again  and 
grew  purple  in  the  face,  and  could  not  fin- 
ish her  sentence. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  waited  in  the  same  calm  way. 
Mrs.  Winslow  twitched  her  daughter  round 


24  DALLY 

towards  the  door  and  then  was  able  to  say, 
over  her  shoulder: 

"  We  had  comp'ny  to  dinner,  'n'  so  'twas 
our  pink  chiny  that  went  into  the  brook." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  followed  the  woman  to  the 
door. 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  she  said,  com- 
miseratingly,  "that  a  gal  brought  up  like 
your  Marietta  wouldn't  have  put  chiny  into 
no  brook." 


Ill 

HOW  DALLY  KEPT  HER   PUPPY 

'HE'S  a  mighty  thunderin'  good 
woman,  or  else  she's  weak  in  her 
mind ;  'n'  we  all  know  she's  bright- 
er V  all  the  rest  of  the  female  kind  round 
here.  That's  my  opinion." 

As  he  was  speaking,  Mr.  Peter  Winslow, 
the  husband  of  Mrs.  Winslow,  "  she  that  was 
a  Jones,"  and  the  father  of  Marietta,  was 
slowly  winding  a  long  gray  comforter  round 
his  neck,  and  standing  heavily  by  the  kitch- 
en stove.  Though  it  was  the  last  of  March, 
there  was  a  "  robin  snow  "  falling  outside, 
and  Mr.  Winslow  was  believed  by  his  family 
to  have  a  weak  throat,  though  he  never 
manifested  any  signs  of  such  weakness. 

"Yes,"he  repeated,  looking  somewhat  bel- 
ligerently at  his  wife,  "  I  call  the  Widder 
'Bijah  a  Christian  woman,  er  takin'  in  that 
Caroliny  gal;  'n'  I'm  goin'  to  give  her  that 
spotted  pup.  I  seen  she  wanted  it,  'n'  Bill 


26  DALLY 

said  he  b'lieved  she'd  give  her  eyes  for  it. 
I  shall  give  it  to  her.  I  shall  take  it  this 
morning.  I  s'pose  you  hear  what  I  say?" 
again  eying  his  wife,  who  was  picking  over 
a  pan  of  beans  and  who  now  announced 
that  she  "wa'n't  deef." 

"  All  right,  then.  I'm  goin'  to  give  Dally 
that  spotted  pup.  It'll  make  a  good  wood- 
chuck  dog;  but  I  sh'll  give  it  to  her." 

He  kept  tying  and  untying  his  comforter 
as  he  stood.  He  was  afraid  of  his  wife,  but 
he  had  resolved  as  to  what  he  would  do 
with  that  puppy.  He  had  been  making  up 
his  mind  for  several  days,  and  had  only  now 
got  his  courage  to  the  sticking-point. 

He  walked  as  far  as  the  door,  and,  as  he 
raised  the  latch,  he  informed  Mrs.  Winslow 
that  he  "wa'n't  goin  'to  have  no  words  flung 
at  him  after  the  thing  was  done." 

He  went  out  to  the  barn,  and  very  soon 
was  seen  going  through  the  yard  with  the 
dog  in  his  arms. 

"Marietta,"  said  her  mother  sharply,  "go 
'n'  tell  your  father  I  wanter  see  him." 

The  girl  hung  back,  but  she  did  finally 
run  through  the  snow  and  give  the  mes- 
sage. Mr.  Winslow  was  already  covered 


DALLY  27 

with  the  big,  soft  flakes.  He  was  out  of 
sight  of  his  wife  and  so  could  summon 
courage  to  say  he  was  in  a  hurry,  and  to 
stride  on.  His  daughter  hurried  also  and 
caught  hold  of  his  arm,  whispering  eagerly: 

"  You  give  it  to  her,  pa !  You  give  Dally 
the  pup — and  my  love.  Don't  you  mind 
ma!" 

It  was  thus  that  Dally  got  the  hound 
puppy,  after  all,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  could  not 
refuse  it  from  Mr.  Winslow's  hands,  though 
the  appearance  of  that  gentleman  when  ab- 
solutely in  the  act  of  bestowing  his  gift  was 
probably  akin  to  the  aspect  of  Macbeth  when 
doing  the  fatal  deed.  He  tried,  however,  to 
put  on  a  matter-of-course  look  of  courage. 
Dally  was  hugging  the  puppy  and  almost 
weeping  with  joy  over  him. 

Mr.  Winslow  pulled  on  his  gray  mittens. 
He  felt  the  squinting  regard  of  the  Widder 
'Bijah  upon  him. 

"I  hope,"  said  she,  "that  your  wife  knows 
of  this." 

"  I  told  her,"  said  Mr.  Winslow,  bravely. 
He  put  his  hands  deep  down  in  the  im- 
mense pockets  of  his  overcoat  and  added 
with  visible  importance:  "My  wife  knows 


28  DALLY 

her  place  too  well  to  dispute  what  I  de- 
cide." 

He  felt  Daily's  admiring  and  grateful  gaze 
upon  him,  and  he  knew  that  she  believed 
what  he  said ;  but  he  had  never  seen  Mrs. 
Jacobs's  smile  so  pitying.  He  lumbered  out 
into  the  mild  snowstorm.  He  dreaded  to 
go  home.  He  had  a  great  temptation  to 
take  off  his  comforter,  get  cold  in  his  throat, 
and  thus,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  health, 
distract  his  wife's  mind  from  the  lecture  she 
would  give  him.  . 

But  he  went  home.  He  was  jovially 
whistling  when  he  opened  the  back  door.  He 
found  that  Mrs.  Winslow,  with  ostentatious 
virtue,  was  scrubbing  the  floor  on  her  knees. 
She  begged  him  not  to  come  tracking  in 
there.  She  said  there  was  wood  enough 
wantin'  to  be  chopped  to  take  him  a  fort- 
night. He  went  quickly  and  dutifully  out 
to  the  woodshed  and  began  to  chop.  He 
was  there  soon  joined  by  Marietta,  who  came 
lurking  round  from  a  side  door,  with  a 
square  of  red  flannel  pinned  over  her  head. 

"  Oh,  pa !"  she  cried  in  a  suppressed  voice. 
"  ma's  ben  a  carryin*  on  jest  awful !" 

"  Don't   talk   'bout   your  ma,  child,"  said 


DALLY  29 

Mr.  Winslow,  and  then  immediately  inquired 
anxiously,  "What  she  ben  a  doin'  now?" 

Marietta  pulled  the  square  of  flannel  yet 
closer  about  her  head  and  almost  whim- 
pered : 

"  Tain't  so  much  what  she's  ben  doin'; 
it's  more  the  way  she's  ben  lookin'." 

Mr.  Winslow  chopped  very  hard.  He 
knew  well  what  were  his  wife's  capabilities 
in  the  way  of  looks.  He  had  had  a  good 
chance  to  learn  in  the  last  twenty-five  years. 
He  had  often  said  to  himself  "he'd  ruther 
she'd  fly  at  him  with  a  tomahawk  than  git 
one  er  them  looks  on." 

"  Your  ma  has  her  trials,  I  expect,"  he 
said  with  a  desperate  effort  to  be  charitable. 

"  I  sh'd  like  ter  know  what  they  be,  then !" 
responded  his  daughter.  "  We're  all  'fraid 
as  death  of  her;  'n'  there  ain't  a  breath 
drawn  in  this  house  'thout  she's  willin'.  I 
d'  know  what  her  trials  be." 

Mr.  Winslow  said  nothing.  The  father 
and  daughter  stood  in  silence,  but  they  ex- 
perienced great  comfort  in  being  there  to- 
gether. The  woodhouse  had  been  the  scene 
of  many  consultations  between  the  two,  and 
of  many  regrets  that "  Ma  was  just  as  she  was." 


30  DALLY 

It  was  on  the  next  Saturday  that  Marietta 
and  her  father  were  again  standing  among 
the  piles  of  wood  and  the  chips.  It  had 
been  an  awful  week  for  them.  Ma  had  kept 
on  "  her  look  "  all  the  week,  and  she  had  per- 
sistently refused  to  eat  anything  but  crusts 
at  the  table.  She  said  crusts  was  good 
'nough  for  a  woman  who  wa'n't  respected 
by  her  husband.  Here  her  husband  groaned. 
He  remonstrated  with  her;  he  said  "she'd 
do  herself  a  damage  goin'  on  in  this  way." 
She  made  no  reply,  other  than  to  take  an- 
other crust  and  try  to  eat  it  with  her  poor 
teeth.  Marietta  grinned  heartlessly.  She 
tried  to  comfort  her  father  by  telling  him  it 
was  her  belief  that  her  ma,  when  alone  in  the 
"but'ry,"  made  up  for  those  crusts. 

It  was  while  they  were  in  the  woodhouse 
on  the  following  Saturday  that  Mrs.  Wins- 
low's  gray  shawl  and  red  cloud  were  seen 
moving  rapidly  across  the  brown,  soggy  past- 
ure towards  the  Widder  'Bijah's  house.  Mrs. 
Winslow  herself  was  inside  the  shawl  and 
hood.  As  she  expressed  it,  she  "  had  ben 
growin'  madder  'n'  madder  every  minute  all 
the  week."  She  said  she  wa'n't  the  woman 
to  be  insulted  by  no  man,  not  even  her  own 


DALLY  31 

husband.  She  didn't  care  a  cent  'bout  the 
pup,  'twas  the  principle  of  the  thing. 

Thus  it  was  in  behalf  of  principle  that  she 
was  striding  towards  that  white  house  be- 
hind the  poplars ;  and  for  the  same  reason 
that  she  suddenly  flung  open  the  door  and 
walked  in. 

Dally  was  standing  at  the  sink  with  a  dark 
gingham  "  tire  "  enveloping  her  whole  per- 
son. She  was  laboriously  and  despairingly 
scouring  steel  knives  and  forks  with  a  piece 
of  cork  and  some  Bristol  brick.  It  was  like 
a  sudden  clap  of  thunder  to  her  when  she 
saw  Mrs.  Winslow,  whom  she  now  hated  with 
a  fury  and  fire  not  to  be  described.  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs was  "  trying  out  fat  "  on  the  cook-stove, 
and  held  a  long  toasting-fork  in  her  hand. 
With  this  fork  she  was  turning  over  the  lumps 
of  suet. 

"  I  s'pose  you  wa'n't  expectin'  of  me,"  be- 
gan the  visitor,  with  an  assumption  of  calm- 
ness which  did  not  deceive  anybody. 

"  No,  I  wa'n't,"  was  the  response. 

"  Wall,  I  came  after  that  pup." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  looked  anxiously  at  Dally, 
who  had  stopped  her  work  and  was  staring 
hard  at  the  round,  red  face  near  the  door. 


32  DALLY 

"  We  ain't  got  no  pup  that  don't  b'long 
to  us,"  answered  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"  You've  got  one  my  husband  brought 
over  here  a  week  ago  to-day,  at  half-past  ten 
in  the  morning,"  said  Mrs.  Winslow,  with  an 
air  as  if  she  were  on  a  witness-stand  and  must 
be  accurate. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  "we've  got  that 
one.  That  belongs  to  Dally.  Mr.  Winslow 
give  it  to  her.  She's  got  terribly  'tached  to 
it  already." 

"Where  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Winslow,  look- 
ing all  about  the  room. 

As  if  in  reply  to  her  question  a  fat,  smooth 
hound  puppy  came  waddling  through  an 
open  door  and  went  and  smelt  of  Mrs. 
Winslow's  skirts.  She  bent  down  and  took 
him  in  her  arms. 

"  I  guess  I'll  give  him  to  Brother  'Lish's 
son,"  she  said,  and  turned  to  leave. 

Dally  cried  out.  The  child's  heart  was 
bursting.  A  sense  of  intolerable  injury  and 
grief  was  upon  her.  She  caught  up  the  big 
carving-knife  she  had  been  going  to  scour. 
She  flung  it  at  Mrs.  Winslow.  It  stuck  in 
the  door  close  to  her.  A  half  of  a  Bristol 
brick  followed,  and  this  went  with  a  thud 


DALLY  33 

right  on  to  the  "  bob  "  of  hair  which  was 
concealed  by  Mrs.  Winslow's  red  cloud. 

Dally  herself  charged  after  the  brick  with 
a  fervor  and  impetuosity  only  to  be  likened 
to  the  onset  of  a  wildcat.  The  undisciplined 
mountain  blood  nerved  her,  and  the  strong 
mountain  muscles  seconded  her.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Mrs.  Jacobs  tried  to  interfere.  The 
girl  was  all  over  her  enemy,  scratching,  claw- 
ing, striking  all  at  once.  She  did  not  make 
a  sound.  At  first  Mrs.  Winslow  kept  shriek- 
ing out  that  she  would  send  for  the  select- 
men. But  in  a  moment  she  found  she  need- 
ed all  her  breath  to  help  in  her  defence.  Of 
course  she  had  to  drop  the  puppy  after  the 
fight  had  continued  for  a  very  short  time. 

Dally  gave  one  more  blow,  then  left  her 
enemy  and  darted  for  her  treasure.  She  sat 
down  on  the  floor  with  the  dog  in  her  arms 
and  hid  her  face  upon  him,  shaking  piteously 
and  moaning  to  herself. 

Mrs.  Winslow's  cloud  was  in  shreds  and 
her  face  bleeding  from  Daily's  nails. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  opened  a  closet  near,  took  out 
a  bottle  and  suggested  that  she  be  allowed 
to  put  some  "  arnicy  onto  them  hurts." 

But  Mrs.  Winslow  was  in  no  mood  for  ar- 
3 


34  DALLY 

nica.     She  said  'twas  the  law  she  wanted,  'n' 
'twas  the  law  she'd  have. 

She  was  sopping  up  the  blood  with  her 
apron  as  she  spoke.  Mrs.  Jacobs  put  back 
the  vial.  She  turned  towards  the  bloody- 
faced  woman  and  said  she  was  mighty  sorry 
this  had  happened,  but  she  must  say  that  if 
Mis'  Winslow  wanted  the  law  she  might  have 
it  'n'  welcome  ;  but  she  couldn't  have  Daily's 
puppy,  for  it  had  ben  give  to  her  and  was 
hern.  Nobody  had  no  more  right  to  come 
'n'  take  that  dorg  'n'  they  had  to  break  into 
er  house  'n'  take  silver  spoons.  'N'  if  Mis' 
Winslow  wanted  the  law,  'n'  the  case  was 
known,  she  guessed  Mis'  Winslow  'd  git  all 
the  law  she  hankered  for. 

It  may  be  possible  that  the  speaker  did 
not  fully  understand  the  status  of  the  dog  in 
the  laws  of  the  land,  but  her  remarks  were 
full  of  common-sense,  and  they  produced  a 
great  effect  upon  the  person  to  whom  they 
were  addressed. 

Mrs.  Winslow  huddled  her  shawl  over  her 
head  and  went  back  over  the  pasture  towards 
her  home. 

It  was  on  her  return  that  she  burst  into 
the  wood-house  where  her  husband  and  Mari- 


DALLY  35 

etta  were.  They  were  horrified,  of  course. 
She  told  Mr.  Winslow  that  he  upheld  folks 
in  their  tryin'  to  murder  his  wife.  She  said 
that  that  Caroliny  gal  had  come  within  an 
inch  of  killing  her,  'n*  she  s'posed  he'd  be 
glad  of  it.  She  did  not  mention  the  puppy. 
At  last  Marietta  asked  humbly  "  if  her  moth- 
er 'd  seen  that  pup." 
"Yes,  I  seen  it." 

"  Did  you  try  to  take  it  away  from  Dally  ?" 
"  'Tain't  no  matter  whether  I  did  or  not." 
"  Oh  !"  said  Marietta,  now  thoroughly  en- 
lightened. 

Contrary  to  expectation  in  the  Winslow 
family,  the  wife  and  mother  suddenly  put 
away  "  that  look,"  became  amiable  for  a  long 
time  and  never  mentioned  the  puppy  again. 
"  That  thar  Dally  done  her  good,"  said 
Mr.  Winslow,  with  a  shrewd  look  at  his  daugh- 
ter, in  one  of  their  confidential  talks. 


IV 

DALLY  TAKES  THE  PLEDGE 

'OMETIMES  it  does  seem  as  if 
'twas  more  than  I  can  do  to  stan' 
it." 

Mrs.  Abijah  Jacobs  was  mounted  in  a  chair 
before  the  open  door  of  her  "  chiny  closet." 
She  was  groping  with  her  hand  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  upper  shelf,  seeking  to  find  the 
row  of  bottles  which  held  her  supply  of  spir- 
ituous liquors  "  for  sickness."  She  had  three 
bottles,  each  holding  a  pint.  One  held  whis- 
key, one  brandy,  and  one  cherry  rum,  the 
latter  made  every  year  from  the  best  Jamaica 
rum  and  wild  cherries  from  the  tree  that 
grew  in  the  lane. 

"  That's  what  we  all  say,  Mis'  Jacobs," 
responded  the  neighbor.  She  was  waiting 
with  a  thin  blue  teacup  in  which  to  carry 
home  some  cherry-rum  for  her  daughter, 
who  was  supposed  to  have  been  too  free 
in  her  use  of  cucumbers  which  had  been 


DALLY  37 

sliced  and  allowed  to  become  flabby.  As  the 
mother  said,  in  her  impatience,  that  she 
"  didn't  know  but  'twas  good  'nough  for 
D'rindy  to  have  a  touch  of  cholery  mobbus, 
if  she  was  a  mind  ter  chaw  down  them  with- 
ered cowcumbers.  Jest  as  they  were  trying 
to"  can  huckleberries,  too  !'' 

The  widow  Jacobs  did  not  reply  to  the 
remark,  and  the  woman  repeated,  "  That's 
what  we  all  say." 

Now  Mrs.  Jacobs  turned  round  so  sud- 
denly on  her  chair  that  she  had  to  catch  at 
a  shelf  to  keep  herself  from  falling. 

"What  do  you  all  say?"  she  asked,  sharp- 

iy. 

D'rindy's  mother  cowered  somewhat,  but 
she  replied  bravely : 

"That  we  don't  see  how  you  do  stan'  it 
with  that  gal  you  took.  Mis'  Winslow  was 
tellin'  only  yisterday  that  she  was  expectin' 
to  live  to  see  the  day  when  you'd  send  Dally 
to  the  poorhouse." 

"  She  won't,  then  ;  not  if  she  lasts  's  long  's 
Methusaleh  did,"  said  the  widder  'Bijah, 
growing  very  red  in  the  face  as  she  spoke. 
"  Not  but  what  she  is  a  trial,  and  I  do  git 
out  of  patience  with  her,"  she  added,  more 


38  DALLY 

mildly.  "  But  I  d'  know  what  we  can  expect 
of  a  critter  brought  up  on  White  Crow 
Mounting,  down  in  Caroliny.  She  ain't  had 
the  privileges  that  Mis'  Winslow's  sut  under 
all  her  life.  We  can't  all  be  Mis'  Winslows, 
you  know." 

The  withering  sarcasm  of  the  last  remark 
almost  made  the  woman  with  the  blue  tea- 
cup tremble  as  she  heard  it. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  laboriously  dismounted  from 
the  chair,  changed  its  position  a  little,  then 
laboriously  mounted  it  again,  and  this  time 
she  put  her  hand  on  the  row  of  pint  bottles, 
which  it  seemed  to  her  had  been  put  in  the 
wrong  corner. 

"  Here  they  be,"  she  said.  "  I'll  give  ye 
a  stiff  dose  of  the  cherry,  Mis'  Willey,  so  as 
to  bring  D'rindy  right  out  of  it." 

When  the  liquid  was  poured  out  it  seemed 
to  both  women  to  be  very  pale. 

"  I  d'  know  why  it  should  look  so,"  said  the 
widow.  "Jest  sup  at  it  'n'  see  how  it  tastes." 

Mrs.  Willey  "  supped  "  at  it,  and  hesitated 
to  speak.  Finally  she  said  it  was  "  ruther 
flat,  somehow ;  but  mebby  'twas  her  no- 
tion." 


DALLY  39 

Mrs.  Jacobs  put  the  cup  to  her  lips  and 
withdrew  it  suddenly. 

"  'Tain't  your  notion,"  she  said,  crisply ; 
"  it's  flat  as  rags.  I  declare  !" 

She  took  the  bottle  of  whiskey  and  of 
brandy  and  held  each  to  the  light.  It  did 
not  seem  to  either  of  the  women  that  they 
were  of  the  proper  color. 

Mrs.  Willey  was  beginning  to  enjoy  the 
situation.  But  she  drew  a  long  face  and 
said : 

"  And  your  liquors  are  always  so  good  ! 
Strange,  ain't  it?  You  don't  noways  think, 
do  you,  now,  that — " 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  for  in  the 
open  doorway,  leading  from  the  woodshed, 
appeared  the  figure  of  Dally. 

The  child  had  her  stockings  and  shoes  in 
her  hand,  while  her  feet  and  quite  an  extent 
of  slim  leg  were  caked  with  half-dry,  black 
meadow  mud.  Her  straw  "  shaker  bonnet  " 
hung  by  its  strings  on  her  back.  Her  light 
hair  was  curling  with  perspiration,  and  her 
face  had  a  good  deal  of  meadow  mud 
"  smooched  "  on  it.  One  arm  held  closely 
pressed  to  her  a  large  quantity  of  sweet  flag- 


40 


DALLY 


root,  its  long  green  leaves  hanging  down  and 
dripping.  Close  to  her  bare  feet  was  the 
hound  puppy  which  Mr.  Winslow  had  given 
her,  and  which  Mrs.  Winslow  had  tried  to 
take  away.  He  also  was  dripping  with  mud- 
dy water. 

Dally  had  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  and 
her  whole  aspect  was  one  of  happy  eager- 
ness, when  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  the  three 
bottles,  which  were  standing  in  a  row  on  the 
table. 

She  shrank  as  suddenly  and  markedly  as  a 
sensitive  plant  shrinks  before  rude  hands. 

"  Dally,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  "  come  here." 

There  was  an  instant's  hesitation  before 
the  girl  replied,  without  stirring  from  her 
position : 

"  I  'low  I  ain't  gwine  ter  move,  nor  ter  tell 
you  uns  nary  word  till  that  ole  'oman  goes." 

She  sat  down  in  a  dingy  heap  on  the 
scrubbed  floor.  She  let  the  flag-root  fall  that 
she  might  the  better  hug  the  puppy,  which 
immediately  crept  into  her  lap  with  a  small, 
babyish  whine.  The  girl's  face  seemed  to 
harden  behind  its  mask  of  mud. 

The  Widder  'Bijah  felt  her  heart  sink  at 
the  same  time  that  an  overwhelming  and 


DALLY  41 

yearning  love  filled  it.  This  love,  awak- 
ened by  Dally,  made  Mrs.  Jacobs  seem 
strange  to  herself.  She  had  a  nebulous 
kind  of  consciousness  that  it  was  taking  the 
edges  off  her  character  in  some  way.  And, 
in  spite  of  all  her  common-sense — and  no 
woman  ever  had  more  of  that  article — the 
affection  she  gave  the  poor  waif  from  the 
Carolina  mountains  appeared  to  her  to  be 
the  same  emotion  that  had  been  gathering 
all  these  years  for  the  daughter  who  had 
never  been  born.  Altogether,  Dally  had 
awakened  in  this  elderly  Yankee  woman  a 
glow  and  a  sense  of  new  vividness  in  life 
which  confused  while  it  exhilarated.  She  told 
herself  nearly  every  day  that  "  she  s'posed 
she  should  git  her  bearin's  'fore  long." 

It  was  March  when  Dally  had  been  seen 
at  the  Jacobs  gate  in  the  too  large  plaid 
cloak,  and  with  the  rain  in  drops  on  her 
beautiful  hair  and  eyelashes,  bearing  that 
letter  from  Mrs.  Lander.  And  now  it  was 
July,  and  the  widow  had  not  got  her  "  bear- 
in's "  yet,  and  seemed  as  far  from  that  state 
as  ever. 

When  Mrs.  Willey  heard  the  child's  reply 
she  grasped  the  blue  teacup  tightly  in  the 


42  DALLY 

hardened  fingers  of  her  right  hand.  She 
smiled,  and  she  tossed  her  head.  Was  she 
going  to  be  called  an  old  woman  by  that  lit- 
tle viper  from  down  South  ? 

She*  marched  to  the  door.  There  she 
paused  long  enough  to  say  "  she  guessed 
Mis'  Winslow  'd  ben  right  when  she  said 
there  shouldn't  no  child  of  hern  be  seen  with 
that  gal  Mis'  Jacobs  had  took." 

Then  she  walked  away,  followed  by  an 
indescribable  gaze  from  Daily's  wide  eyes. 

If  there  was  anything  in  life  to  which  the 
widow  of  Abijah  Jacobs  had  been  accus- 
tomed it  was  to  being  equal  to  emergencies. 
She  had  known  exactly  what  to  do  when  her 
husband's  hired  man  had  cut  his  leg  so  hor- 
ribly with  his  scythe.  Everybody  had  said 
that  if  she  hadn't  done  just  what  she  did, 
the  man  would  have  bled  to  death  before 
the  doctor  came.  In  preserving  time,  when 
jelly  wouldn't  jell,  she  knew  how  to  bring  it 
to  terms,  and  no  jelly  had  ever  been  known 
to  hold  out  long  in  rebellion  beneath  her 
hands.  After  'Bijah  had  died  she  not  only 
knew  how  to  manage  the  property,  but  che 
knew  how  to  refuse  the  men  who  came  in 
the  hope  of  consoling  her  and  of  sharing  that 


DALLY  43 

property.  There  was  not  any  one  in  Ran- 
som so  "  facultied  "  and  so  capable. 

But  here  she  was  sitting  beside  the  table 
which  held  the  three  bottles,  feeling  so  weak 
and  wretched  that  she  could  have  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  wept.  She  knew 
that  Mrs.  Willey  would  go  through  the  neigh- 
borhood, telling  how  Dally  had  drunk  all  that 
liquor.  "  Liquor  "  is  what  all  kinds  of  fluid 
material  containing  alcohol  is  called  in 
Ransom. 

Worse  still,  Dally  had  probably  really 
drunk  the  whiskey,  and  the  brandy,  and  the 
rum,  and  then  filled  the  bottles  with  wa- 
ter. And  now  it  was  possible  she  would  lie 
about  it. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  looked  at  the  girl.  She 
thought  wildly  of  sending  for  the  minister. 
She  wondered  if  she  had  failed  in  not  taking 
Dally  to  more  evening  prayer-meetings.  But 
the  girl  had  slept  so  heavily  through  them 
that  it  seemed  cruel  not  to  let  her  go  to  bed 
instead  of  taking  her  out. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  been  leaning  her  head  on 
her  hand  and  shading  her  eyes  while  she 
thought  painfully.  After  a  few  moments 
she  looked  up  to  speak  to  Dally,  but  she  was 


44 


DALLY 


not  there.  The  puppy,  however,  was  having 
a  nap  on  sweet  flag  leaves.  As  Mrs.  Jacobs 
walked  to  the  door  the  girl  came  in  with  a 
bound,  looking  so  fierce  that  the  other  asked 
quickly  where  she  had  been. 

"  I  war  gwine  ter  shy  er  rock  at  thur  dad- 
burned  ole  heifer,  I  war,"  she  answered, 
breathlessly. 

"  You  don't  mean  at  Mis'  Willey  ?"  was  the 
horrified  question,  as  Mrs.  Jacobs  started  for- 
ward to  see  what  damage  had  been  done,  re- 
membering Daily's  onslaught  on  Mrs.  Wins- 
low. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  at  she,"  Dally  said. 

Then  she  caught  her  friend's  arm  and  con- 
tinued :  "  But  I  didn't  do  hit — no,  ma'am  ;  I 
didn't  do  hit.  But  it  wasn't  'cause  I  didn't 
long  ter  see  er  rock  bangin'  on  ter  her  cussed 
ole  head !" 

Dally  was  trembling  with  excitement,  and 
was  absolutely  white.  She  held  on  tightly 
to  Mrs.  Jacobs's  arm,  and  gazed  eagerly  in 
her  eyes. 

Even  in  the  midst  of  her  anger  and  fury 
there  was  in  the  attitude  something  of  appeal. 

"No,"  repeated  Dally  in  a  shrill  voice,  "I 
didn't  do  hit,  only  jes'  'cause  I  thought  of 


DALLY  45 

you,  somehow,  'n'  held  my  hand  ;  'n1  the  rock 
wouldn't  go.  Thar  'tis." 

She  pointed  just  beside  the  doorstep,  where 
a  ragged  stone  of  the  size  of  her  fist  lay,  ap- 
parently just  dropped. 

"  If  she'd  er  said  nothin'  'ginst  yo',  's  well 
's  'ginst  me,  I'd  er  let  the  rock  rip !" 

"  Dally." 

The  girl  stood  quivering.  Mrs.  Jacobs  led 
her  into  the  room,  and  the  small  hound  pup- 
py followed  dejectedly  at  her  heels,  and  sat 
down  on  his  haunches  close  to  those  heels, 
when  they  paused  near  the  table,  where  the 
bottles  stood. 

"  I  s'pose  you  drunk  them,  Dally,"  said 
Mrs.  Jacobs,  pointing  to  the  bottles. 

Dolly  quivered  again.  She  seemed  to  un- 
dergo some  kind  of  an  inward  convulsion. 
Then  she  said  : 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"When?" 

"  At  odd  times  when  yo'  war  summers  else." 

"  Oh,  how  could  you  ?" 

"Jest  as  easy — I  liked  'em  all.  Thur 
whiskey  war  the  best.  I've  allers  had  whis- 
key. Ole  Tid  had  her  bottle,  she  did,  an' 
Barker  an'  me  we  jest  cotched  er  sup  when- 


46  DALLY 

ever  we  could.  Most  times  hit  war  two  or 
three  times  er  day.  I  like  hit." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  sat  down.  Her  way  seemed 
dark  before  her.  With  a  despairing  move- 
ment she  drew  the  girl  towards  her  and  leaned 
her  head  on  the  young  shoulder.  She  was 
asking  herself  why  she  was  so  depraved  as  to 
love  this  creature  who  owned  she  was  used 
to  drinking  whiskey,  and  liked  it.  But  she 
had  owned  it.  There  was  a  glimmer  of  light. 
She  had  owned  it. 

Dally  tried  to  stand  quite  still,  but  she  vi- 
brated beneath  the  touch  of  the  head  on  her 
shoulder. 

After  a  moment  Mrs.  Jacobs  felt  an  arm 
which  was  very  aromatic  with  sweet  flag  put 
gently  round  her  neck. 

"  You've  ben  real  good  for  several  weeks, 
Dally,"  said  the  woman. 

Dally  choked.  She  essayed  to  speak  twice 
before  she  was  able  to  say : 

"  But  I  war  er  drinkin'  that  stuff  all  thur 
time ;"  in  a  moment  she  added  with  some 
unction,  "  Thur  whiskey  war  thur  best." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  drew  Dally  and  all  her  mud 
into  her  lap,  and  the  puppy  climbed  into 
Daily's  lap. 


DALLY  47 

"And  me  the  greatest  temp'rance  woman 
in  the  town ! "  exclaimed  the  widow.  "  Why, 
child,  I  b'long  to  all  the  societies,  'n'  yet  I 
can't  keep  you  from  drinkin'  liquor." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  thought  of  how  she  was  a 
member  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  of  the  country  at 
large,  as  it  were.  And  had  she  not  been  a 
member,  since  the  hour  of  its  birth,  of  the 
"  Sparkling  and  Bright  Battalion,"  a  com- 
pany formed  in  the  village  for  the  special 
purpose  of  seeing  to  it  that  the  young  should 
not  become  wine-bibbers?  Had  she  not  at- 
tended their  meetings  just  to  encourage 
them?  And  was  she  not  scrupulous  in  keep- 
ing all  her  dues  paid?  She  was  also,  since 
years  ago,  a  Son  of  Temperance,  as  much  as 
a  woman  could  be.  She  could  pay  her 
money,  and  it  was  just  as  good  as  if  she  had 
been  a  man.  She  knew  they  did  not  care 
whether  she  met  with  "  the  Division  "  or  not, 
as  long  as  they  had  her  money.  And  she  al- 
ways made  it  a  duty  to  entertain  more  than 
her  share  of  temperance  "  delegates,"  when 
delegates  were  to  be  entertained. 

It  would  have  been  bad  enough  if  she  had 
taken  a  boy  who  drank ;  but  a  girl ! 

The   aromatic    arm   had  been  tightening 


48  DALLY 

round  her  neck.  The  puppy  reached  up  its 
cold  nose  to  her  face. 

"You  feel  awful,  don't  you?"  whispered 
Dally. 

She  had  grown  to  have  moments  of  not 
using  her  Southern  dialect  when  she  spoke; 
and  sometimes  she  mixed  the  Yankee  speech 
with  it  in  a  way  strange  to  hear. 

Before  Mrs.  Jacobs  could  reply,  the  girl 
went  on  : 

"  It  wa'n't  nothin'  ter  drink  whiskey  onter 
White  Crow  Mounting;  it  wa'n't.  We  uns 
all  did  hit,  ef  we  gurt  er  chance.  Pore  whis- 
key it  war,  too.  I  never  supped  no  sech  as 
yourn." 

"Dally,"  cried  the  widow,  suddenly,  "do 
you  love  me?  Do  you  think  I've  ben  good 
to  you  ?" 

A  beautiful  light  came  into  the  girl's  eyes. 
Her  whole  face  softened,  and  now  looked 
touchingly  young. 

"  Do  I  lurv  yo'  ?"  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  I  lurv 
yo'  as  no  tongue  can't  never,  never  tell !" 

Her  breath  caught,  and  she  struggled 
with  it  a  minute  before  she  went  on.  Mrs. 
Jacobs  was  looking  into  the  lovely  deeps 
of  her  eyes. 


DALLY  49 

"An'  you've  ben  heavenly  kind  ter  me." 

The  woman  held  the  child  close  before 
she  said,  solemnly : 

"  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  sacred  promise, 
Dally." 

"  I  will ;  I  will,"  said  she,  brokenly. 

"  But  you  must  keep  your  word  if  you 
give  it.  You  know  a  promise  must  never 
be  broken." 

Dally  nodded. 

"  Promise  that  you  will  never  taste  a  drop 
of  liquor  of  any  kind,  unless  it  is  given  you 
for  sickness." 

The  girl  stood  up  with  a  white  face  and 
intent  eyes  and  gave  the  promise. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  took  the  soiled  hands. 

"  And  don't  steal  anything,  Dally.  It  is 
dreadful  for  me  to  think  you  could  steal ; 
and  how  sly  you  were  !" 

It  was  impossible  to  doubt  the  penitence 
in  the  untutored  heart. 

When  Dally  went  to  bed  that  night  she 
told  "  aunty,"  as  she  called  Mrs.  Jacobs,  that 
if  Barker  could  "  come  urp  north  "  and  live 
with  them,  he  would  probably  grow  so  good 
that  by  the  time  he  was  a  man  he  could  be 
a  minister  and  "  give  preachin's." 
4 


50  DALLY 

But  still  the  widow  shrank  from  the 
thought  of  Barker. 

The  next  week  the  Rev.  Mr.  Alden,  the 
present  incumbent  of  the  Ransom  pulpit, 
called  on  the  Widder  Bijah.  He  said  that 
Sister  Window  had  impressed  it  upon  him 
as  his  duty  to  call  and  ask  Sister  Jacobs  if 
she  had  dealt  with  the  girl  she  had  taken 
from  the  South.  Sister  Winslow  was  con- 
vinced that  the  girl  should  be  dealt  with. 

The  widow  replied  that  if  she  had  not 
dealt  with  Dally  she  was  sure  of  one  thing, 
and  that  was  that  there  wouldn't  nobody 
else  deal  with  her. 

The  minister  did  not  feel  exhilarated 
when  he  walked  away.  He  was  very  young 
and  may  learn  not  to  follow  the  advice  of 
Sister  Winslow. 


V 

DALLY  AND  MARIETTA  HAVE  A  GOOD  TIME 

IR.  PETER  WINSLOW  was  the  kind 
of  man  who,  in  winter,  wore  a  long 
blue  wool  "  frock  "  and  a  gray  com- 
forter twisted  about  his  neck. 

But  in  August  he  could  hardly  endure 
that  kind  of  a  costume,  so  he  went  to  the 
other  extreme  and  wore  blue  overalls,  much 
faded  from  frequent  washings  performed  by 
his  wife,  and  held  upon  his  portly  form  by 
one  strap  of  the  same  material,  going  up 
from  the  left  front  over  his  shoulder  to  the 
right  back.  His  voluminous  white  shirt 
was  held  down  so  loosely  round  the  waist 
by  this  arrangement  in  regard  to  his  panta- 
loons that  if  there  was  the  least  wind  going 
his  shirt  was  filled  with  it,  and  presented  the 
appearance  of  a  balloon  ready  to  start  on  an 
aerial  voyage. 

His  wife,  who  was  usually  described  as 
"  she  that  was  a  Jones,"  as  if  those  words 


g2  DALLY 

completely  portrayed  her,  ruled  her  family, 
including  her  husband,  with  a  rod  of  iron, 
but  she  always  acknowledged  that  she  had 
no  influence  with  him  in  regard  to  his 
clothes.  She  used  to  declare  that  she  did 
not  believe  that  the  angel  Gabriel,  if  he 
should  come  down  on  purpose  to  make 
Peter  Winslow  wear  something  decent  in 
summer,  would  have  the  slightest  influence 
with  Mr.  Winslow.  This  remark  was  often 
repeated,  and  was  supposed  to  convey  the 
idea,  in  background,  as  it  were,  that  Mrs. 
Winslow  was  as  powerless  in  other  matters 
as  she  was  in  regard  to  the  gentleman's  ha- 
biliments. 

Her  daughter  Marietta,  who  was  her  fa- 
ther's intimate  "  crony,"  used  to  get,  as  she 
said,  "  awful  sick  of  hearin'  about  the  angel 
Gabriel." 

Mr.  Winslow  had  just  driven  out  of  the 
yard  in  his  hay  rigging.  He  was  going  to 
the  far  meadow.  He  was  standing  with  his 
feet,  in  huge  rubber  boots,  very  wide  apart 
and  braced  so  that  he  could  keep  his  bal- 
ance as  he  turned  into  the  road.  His  faded 
overalls  were  secured,  as  I  have  said,  and  his 
shirt  was  rounded  out  in  the  back  with  the 


DALLY 


53 


breeze  to  a  particularly  large  circumference; 
and  Mr.  Winslow  was  a  large  man  even 
without  this  arrangement. 

"  There  goes  yer  father,"  said  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  spitefully  to  Marietta,  who  was  scour- 
ing a  milk-pan,  and  purposely  not  putting 
any  strength  into  her  hand  as  she  did  so. 
"  There  he  goes  again,  lookin'  like  sin  V  Sa- 
tan, with  his  shirt  like  that.  I  feel  ashamed 
ter  have  the  neighbors  see  him.  Why  don't 
he  wear  a  jumper?" 

Marietta  dipped  her  flannel  rag  into  the 
soft  soap  and  then  into  the  beach  sand,  and, 
like  a  wise  child,  remained  silent.  Her  fa- 
ther was  often  taking  her  out  to  the  barn  or 
wood-house  and  cautioning  her  to  hold  her 
tongue. 

"Nothin'  '11  take  the  wind  outer  yer 
mother's  sails  so  quick  as  for  us  to  keep 
still,"  he  would  say. 

Therefore  Marietta  now  kept  still.  She 
shut  her  little  mouth  very  tight,  and  was 
saying  to  herself : 

"  If  she  goes  'n'  brings  up  Gabriel  now, 
I'm  afraid  I  sh'll  have  to  speak." 

Mrs.  Winslow  would  have  been  shocked 
if  she  had  thought  that  she  was  the  means 


54  DALLY 

of  causing  her  daughter  to  think  disrespect- 
fully of  any  of  the  heavenly  host,  but  this 
constant  reference  had  well-nigh  removed 
any  emotion  of  awe  there  might  ever  have 
been  in  the  child's  heart  in  regard  to  an- 
gels. 

The  woman  poured  the  last  of  the  cream 
into  the  churn  and  slapped  the  dasher  down 
viciously  in  it. 

"  It's  comin',"  thought  Marietta,  lazily 
taking  still  more  soap.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  could 
go  down  in  the  medder  with  par,  instid  of 
staying  here !" 

"  I  do  b'lieve,  'n'  I  shouldn't  be  'fraid  to 
say  it  anywheres,"  said  Mrs.  Winslow,  in 
her  most  irritating  staccato,  "  that  if  the 
angel  Gabriel  should  tell  your  father  ter 
wear  a  jumper  ruther  than  his  shirt  in  that 
way,  he  wouldn't  do  it.  Your  father,  Ma- 
rietta, is  jest  as  sut — 

The  girl  dropped  her  rag  into  the  bowl  of 
sand  and  turned  her  flushed,  freckled  face 
towards  the  speaker. 

"  I  do  declare,  mar,"  she  cried,  "  that  that 
old  Gabriel  better  stay  up  in  Heaven  and 
mind  his  business,  ruther  than  be  comin' 
down  here  medlin'  with  par's  trous'rs.  Par's 


DALLY  55 

trous'rs  are  all  right.  You've  been  an'  got 
me  so's  I  jest  about  hate  Gabriel ;  an'  I  al- 
ways uster  think  he  was  first-class  all  round. 
I—" 

Marietta  did  not  know  what  she  should 
have  said,  and  was  at  that  pitch  that  she 
did  not  care.  Mrs.  Winslow  seized  her  by 
the  shoulder  and  shook  her  violently. 

"  You  go  straight  inter  the  bedroom,"  she 
said.  "  If  I've  got  a  child  that'll  speak  dis- 
respectful of  the  angel  Gabriel,  I  d'  know 
what  we're  comin'  to.  It's  all  yer  father's 
fault.  Don't  you  come  outer  that  bedroom 
till  I  call  ye." 

The  door  was  shut  and  locked,  leaving 
Marietta  in  a  very  small  room  which  led 
from  the  kitchen.  The  blind  was  closed ; 
the  sun  was  beating  hotly  on  it,  and  send- 
ing through  the  mosquito-netting  that  was 
stretched  across  the  window-frame  a  com- 
bination of  odors  of  herbs  and  flowers  that 
grew  outside.  The  perfume  of  warm  sage 
leaves  was  the  most  striking,  and  it  pene- 
trated to  Marietta's  disturbed  senses  and 
made  her  think  of  Thanksgiving  turkey  and 
of  the  times  when  her  mother  "  fixed  sau- 
sage meat." 


56  DALLY 

But  it  was  no  time  to  think  of  any  kind 
of  thanksgiving. 

She  threw  herself  angrily  upon  the  patch- 
work spread  on  the  bed  and  did  not  care 
how  much  she  "  squashed  "  the  high-piled 
feathers.  She  was  reckless.  She  told  her- 
self that  some  girls  had  mothers  that  were 
different.  She  wished  she  was  old  enough 
to  marry,  not  that  she  might  have  a  hus- 
band, but  that  she  might  have  a  home  of 
her  own  and  ask  her  father  to  come  and 
live  with  her.  She  reviewed  the  boys  of 
her  acquaintance,  wondering  which  one 
would  do  the  best  as  a  provider  of  a  home 
for  her  father. 

Her  thoughts  soon  became  indistinct,  and 
her  hot,  indignant  eyes  closed. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  immediately 
began  to  dream  that  the  blind  was  open,  a 
bar  of  sunlight  on  her  face,  and  some  one 
whispering  her  name. 

Finally  she  sat  up  and  blinked  her  eyes 
in  the  sunshine.  The  blind  was  open,  and 
presently  she  was  able  to  see  a  face  looking 
in  at  her. 

"Git  urp,"  said  an  eager  whisper;  "come 
out  hyar." 


DALLY  57 

With  fear  and  trembling  Marietta  crept 
to  the  window. 

Daily's  chin  was  resting  on  the  window- 
ledge,  and  Daily's  vivid  face  was  looking  at 
her  and  seeming  to  palpitate  as  it  looked. 
The  expression  most  visible  on  it  just  now 
was  that  of  joy  at  seeing  her  friend. 

"  If  mother  should  ketch  you  !"  exclaimed 
Marietta  in  a  whisper. 

Dally  laughed  noiselessly. 

"  I  ain't  feared,"  she  whispered  back. 
"Come!  I've  gurt  er  pony,  an'  I  war 
bound  yo'  should  have  one  er  thur  fust 
rides." 

Marietta  clasped  her  hands,  which  were 
still  soiled  with  soap  and  sand  and  the  black 
from  the  pans. 

"  I  can't  believe  it!"  she  whispered  again, 
but  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the  door 
that  led  into  the  kitchen.  She  repeated  in 
more  terrified  tones:  "Oh,  if  mother  should 
ketch  us !  I  jest  's  live  die  's  have  her  open 
that  door  now!" 

"  She  won't,  I  tell  yo',"  replied  Dally,  with 
an  air  of  security  that  greatly  impressed 
Marietta,  who  asked  :  "  How  do  you  know  ?" 
with  something  like  admiration. 


58  DALLY 

Instead  of  replying,  Dally  put  her  hand 
up  and  gently  removed  the  frame  of  netting 
from  the  window. 

She  looked  at  Marietta  with  such  an  in- 
viting glance  that  that  little  girl  did  not 
linger  any  longer  in  indecision,  but  put  one 
leg,  with  a  calico  "  pantalette  "  on  it,  over 
the  window-sill ;  and  as  this  leg  was  directly 
followed  by  its  mate,  she  was  presently 
standing  on  the  ground  close  to  the  sage- 
bed.  Mrs.  Winslow  had  worn  pantalettes 
when  she  was  a  child,  and  she  argued  that 
what  was  good  enough  for  her  was  good 
enough  for  her  daughter,  though,  as  Mari- 
etta rebelliously  declared,  "nobody  else  wore 
such  things." 

Dally  threw  an  impulsive  arm  round 
Marietta's  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"It's  turrible  long  sence  I  seen  yo',"  she 
said  softly,  her  eyes  gleaming. 

"I  know  it,"  returned  the  other;  "  but  ye 
know  mother  won't  let  me.  She  says  no 
child  of  hern — 

"  I  know  'bout  that ;  yo'  needn't  tell  me 
none  er  that,"  interrupted  Dally  with  a 
swift  anger.  She  raised  a  small  and  very 
dirty  fist.  "  Ef  she's  er  mind  ter  act  that 


DALLY 


59 


away — "  she  began.  But  her  companion 
would  not  let  her  finish  the  remark;  she 
seized  the  fist  and  drew  Dally  rapidly  along 
by  the  currant  bushes  and  the  great  rhu- 
barb plants  which  flapped  against  their  bare 
ankles  until  they  came  to  the  garden  wall. 
The  other  side  of  that  wall  there  was  a 
clump  of  milkweeds,  from  whose  curious 
bloom-clusters  the  sun  was  drawing  out  a 
full  torrid  fragrance. 

As  the  two  girls  climbed  over  the  loosely 
placed  stones,  Marietta  asked  breathlessly: 

"Is  it  a  truly  pony?"  When  they  stood 
on  the  other  side,  Dally  pulled  the  other 
along,  as  she  answered  : 

"  I  hope  as  yo'  ain't  gwine  ter  be  disap- 
pointed. 'Tain't  so  much  of  er  pony  as  'tis 
er  hoss.  Yo'  didn't  expect  er  teenty-tonty 
thing,  did  yo'?" 

"  I  didn't  expect  nothin',"  replied  Mari- 
etta, looking  eagerly  in  every  direction. 

"  No  more  yo'  didn't,"  was  the  response. 
"An'  'tain't  so  much  er  hoss  nor  er  pony  as 
'tis—" 

Here  Dally  clapped  her  hands  on  her  own 
mouth  and  gazed  shiningly  over  them  at 
Marietta,  who  was  becoming  more  and  more 


Oo  DALLY 

bewildered.  The  latter  began  to  run,  but 
allowed  herself  to  be  guided  by  her  compan- 
ion. She  announced  pantingly  that  she 
wouldn't  say  another  word  till  she  was 
where  she  couldn't  hear  her  mother  if  she 
should  holler. 

"  She  mout  holler,"  returned  Dally,  "  but 
she  can't  ketch  yo'." 

At  this  very  significant  remark,  Marietta 
stopped  short.  What  had  Dally  done? 
Marietta  had  a  warm  love  for  Dally,  but  at 
this  moment  she  told  herself  that  she  was 
"  outlandish,"  and  really  one  could  not  tell 
what  an  outlandish  person  might  be  led  to 
do.  In  this  case  she  had  acknowledged 
that  she  had  placed  Mrs.  Winslow  in  a  posi- 
tion where,  though  she  might  "  holler,"  she 
could  "  ketch "  no  one.  Marietta  was  al- 
most frightened. 

"  What  you  done  ?"  she  asked  sharply. 
"  Mar'll  see  that  ye  git  your  come-uppance 
if  you  done  nothin'  to  her." 

For  reply,  Dally  only  laughed.  She 
laughed  with  such  intense  merriment,  and 
the  sound  was  so  sweet  and  infectious,  that 
Marietta  was  obliged  to  join  her  in  spite  of 
her  doubts. 


DALLY  6l 

This  child  from  Carolina  possessed  a 
mysterious  charm  for  the  Massachusetts 
child.  The  leaven  of  wickedness,  the  hith- 
erto unknown  flavor  of  love  and  caressing, 
the  wild  grace  of  manner,  the  suspicion  of 
something  savage  and  dreadful,  all  drew 
Marietta.  Possibly,  also,  the  fact  that  her 
mother  disapproved  lent  zest  to  any  inter- 
view she  happened  to  steal.  And  the  con- 
trary fact,  that  her  father  did  not  disap- 
prove, took  from  the  girl  any  overwhelming 
sense  of  sin. 

When  the  two  reached  the  highway, 
Marietta  felt  that  her  curiosity  was  getting 
the  better  of  her. 

"  I  don't  see  no  pony,"  she  said. 

"  I  called  it  er  pony,"  said  Dally,  hesitat- 
ingly. 

" Ain't  it?"  asked  Marietta,  her  freckled 
.  face  growing  red  at  the  thought  of  being 
deceived. 

"  It  goes  jest  like  er  wild-cat,"  remarked 
Dally.  "  Yo'  jest  look  hyar." 

She  pulled  from  behind  a  clump  of  sumach 
what  seemed  to  Marietta's  confused  sense 
something  very  strange — two  wheels  hitched 
together,  one  very  small  and  one  very  large. 


62  DALLY 

''Looker  hyar !"  cried  the  other  again,  in 
an  excited  voice. 

Dally  sprang  on  top  of  those  two  wheels. 
She  sat  astride,  and  she  made  her  legs  go 
so  fast,  and  the  big  wheel  and  the  little 
wheel  went  so  fast,  that  Marietta  fairly 
shrieked  with  excited  admiration.  She 
clapped  her  hands,  she  danced  up  and 
down.  Once,  over  in  Farnham,  she  had 
caught  sight  of  such  a  thing,  but  it  was 
only  a  glimpse,  and  there  was  a  man  on  it. 
She  had  supposed,  of  course,  that  only  a 
man  or  boy  could  get  on  it.  It  was  just 
like  Dally  to  do  that.  Dally  could  do  any- 
thing strange  and  bewitching.  It  was  the 
most  bewitching  thing  in  the  world  to  be 
on  such  a  machine,  and  "  to  go  it "  like  that. 
She  screamed  again  as  Dally  turned  and 
came  towards  her.  "  Le'me  !  le'me  !"  she 
shouted. 

After  a  great  deal  of  trying  to  balance 
against  the  fence,  Marietta  succeeded  in 
scrambling  on  and  holding  on  somehow  be- 
hind Dally,  like  a  monkey  behind  a  rider. 

They  were  both  light  in  weight,  and 
Dally  had  learned  to  ride  in  a  curious,  hel- 
ter-skelter way.  She  explained  that  Mrs. 


DALLY  63 

Jacobs's  nephew,  who  lived  off  somewhere, 
had  now  gone  somewhere  else  to  be  away 
a  great  while,  and  he  had  sent  this  thing  to 
his  aunt  to  be  stored.  Marietta  ventured 
to  suggest  that  "  mebby  they  should  hurt 
it,"  but  Dally  asserted  so  positively  that  it 
couldn't  be  hurt  that  she  believed  her. 

It  was  not  until  the  sun  had  gone  behind 
some  pine-trees  over  towards  the  west  that 
Marietta's  conscience,  or  her  fear,  suddenly 
awakened. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "jest  s'pos'n'  if  mar  has 
opened  that  bedroom  door!" 

The  two  girls  stood  breathing  hard,  lean- 
ing against  the  fence,  worn  out  with  pleas- 
ure. It  had  even  been  vouchsafed  to  Ma- 
rietta to  go  six  yards  alone  on  the  bicycle 
before  she  and  it  fell  over. 

"  She  ain't  done  hit,"  remarked  Dally,  with 
calm  assurance. 

"  I'll  bet  she  has,"  said  Marietta. 

"She  ain't.    But  she  mout  have  hollered." 

Marietta  began  to  be  frightened  again. 
She  looked  fearfully  at  the  sweaty,  grimy 
face  of  her  companion. 

"  I  'd  know  what  ye  mean,"  she  said,  just 
above  her  breath. 


64  DALLY 

Dally  returned  the  glance  solemnly. 

"  Yo'  go  straight  home  now,"  she  advised, 
"an'  go  inter  that  bedroom,  'thout  no  noise, 
an'  don't  yo'  come  outen  thar  twel  yo'  mar 
opens  thur  do'.  Jest  stay,  ef  yo'  do  hear  no 
hollerin'.  You're  locked  in,  and  yo'  can't  git 
out." 

Dally  delicately  mounted  the  bicycle,  but 
Marietta  pulled  her  down. 

"  What  ye  mean  ?"  she  asked ;  "  you've 
got  ter  tell  me." 

"  When  I  see  yo'  ergin."  With  this  re- 
ply Dally  treadled  rapidly  away  towards  the 
Widder  Jacobs's  house. 


VI 

MRS.  PETER  WINSLOW  SUSPECTS 

[HERE  is  a  great  deal  of  flatness  in 
the  feeling  one  has  when  creeping 
home  after  having  run  away.  It 
was  this  emotion  which  Marietta  experi- 
enced when  she  climbed  the  wall  where  the 
milkweed  was,  on  her  return  to  imprison- 
ment, after  her  afternoon  with  Dally  and 
the  bicycle. 

With  each  movement  that  she  made  she 
expected  to  hear  her  mother,  or,  worse 
still,  to  feel  a  sharp  grip  on  her  shoulder. 
But  all  was  quiet  and  peaceful  about  the 
farm-house,  save  the  heart  of  the  little  girl 
who  was-  slowly  coming  round  it.  To  her 
the  very  burdocks  up  under  the  wall  seemed 
to  reprove  her. 

"  'Tain't  no  fun  to  come  home  like  this," 
she  whispered  ;  then  she  added,  "  but  I  did 
have  a  good  time." 

It  was  getting  almost  more  than  dusk. 
5 


66  DALLY 

She  wondered  if  her  father  had  come  back. 
She  was  thankful  that  she  heard  nothing  of 
her  mother,  but  she  was  frightened  at  the 
strange  stillness.  What  had  Dally  done? 
Dally  seemed  to  be  capable  of  doing  a  great 
variety  of  things.  And  Dally  had  every 
reason  not  to  love  Mrs.  Winslow. 

Marietta  entered  the  bedroom  by  the  win- 
dow, as  she  had  left  it.  She  felt  as  if  she 
had  been  gone  a  week,  and  was  surprised  that 
nothing  in  the  room  had  changed.  She  soft- 
ly tried  the  door,  and  found  it  still  locked. 

How  very  still  the  house  was !  There  was 
a  whippoorwill  on  the  grindstone,  and  he 
kept  giving  forth  his  call,  late  in  the  season 
as  it  was.  Marietta  sat  down  on  the  bed 
and  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  so  that  she 
might  not  hear  the  bird.  She  kept  them  in 
for  the  space  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  minute, 
and  then  was  surprised  that  the  bird  was 
still  singing. 

There  was  the  sound  of  cart-wheels  com- 
ing down  the  hill.  She  knew  the  trot  of 
the  horses,  and  now  she  heard  her  father's 
cheery  chirrup  to  his  steeds. 

She  was  so  glad  to  hear  it  that  she  began 
to  cry  a  little.  Was  supper  ready? 


DALLY  67 

When  would  things  -be  natural  again  ? 

She  waited  breathlessly  for  the  time  to 
come  when  she  should  hear  her  father  at 
the  kitchen  door.  She  knew  precisely  how 
long  it  would  take  him  to  put  the  horses  in 
their  stalls.  He  would  have  to  milk  by 
lantern-light  to-night,  and  her  mother  would 
scold  about  that.  But  where  was  her  moth- 
er? Dally  had  said  she  "  mout  holler,"  but 
she  had  not  done  so. 

At  last,  in  desperation,  Marietta  resolved 
that  she  would  slowly  count  a  hundred,  and 
if  nothing  had  happened  by  the  time  she 
had  finished  she  would  again  jump  out  of  the 
window  and  see  what  discoveries  she  could 
make.  Just  as  she  said  "twenty-seven"  her 
father's  foot  sounded  in  the  wood-house,  and 
at  the  same  moment  her  mother's  voice  cried, 
in  an  imperative  but  subdued  way: 

"  Peter  Winslow  !     I  say,  Peter  !" 
The   child   heard    her   father   exclaim   to 
himself:  "  Sakes  alive!     What's  up    now?" 
then  aloud  :  "  Where  be  ye?" 

The  answer  came  in  unmistakable  tones  : 
"  I  sh'd  think  you'd  know  'nough  to  know 
where  I  be.  Any  other  man  'd  know  quick 
'nough,  'thout  bein'  told." 


68  DALLY 

"Wall,  you'll  have  ter  tell  me,  for  I  can't 
make  out,"  was  the  response,  good-naturedly. 

Now  Marietta  heard  a  great  banging  on  a 
door.  She  thought  she  knew  where  it  was. 
She  felt  as  if  she  were  made  up  entirely  of 
astonished  interest  and  surprise.  And  down 
at  the  very  bottom  of  her  heart  was  a  won- 
dering admiration  for  the  individual  who  had 
done  this.  This  was  a  greater  deed  than 
putting  china  dishes  in  "  the  branch,"  that 
they  might  wash  themselves. 

"  I'm  down  suller !"  cried  Mrs.  Winslow. 
"  You're  a  pesky  fool  not  ter  know  that. 
I've  ben  screamin'  'n'  screamin'  to  Marietta, 
but  she  must  sleep  like  the  dead.  But  then, 
she's  locked  in." 

Mr.  Winslow's  heavy,  muffled  tread  went 
across  the  floor.  Marietta  was  now  entirely 
merged  into  the  one  act  of  listening. 

"  I  sh'd  say  you  was  locked  up  yerself,"  he 
said  ;  and  Marietta  knew  he  was  turning  the 
heavy  oak  button  which  was  on  the  kitchen 
side  of  the  cellar  door,  and  which  was  the 
only  fastening,  and  quite  sufficient,  too. 

Now  by  the  sound  of  her  mother's  voice 
the  child  knew  she  had  emerged  from  her 
imprisonment. 


DALLY  69 

"  How  in  time — "  began  Mr.  Winslow,  but 
he  was  stopped  short. 

"  Now,  don't  go  to  actin'  's  if  this  was  the 
greatest  thing  you  ever  heard  of,"  cried  the 
high,  rasping  voice.  "And  you  needn't 
laugh.  And  if  you  go  and  tell  anybody  out- 
side er  this  place,  I'll — " 

The  voice  paused,  inadequate. 

It  was  impossible  for  Mr.  Winslow  to  help 
chuckling  softly  to  himself.  But  he  tried  to 
become  grave.  He  foresaw  immediately 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  to  say 
occasionally  to  his  wife :  "  When  you  got 
shet  up  in  the  suller,  you  know." 

Now  he  inquired  sympathetically  "how  it 
happened,  and  how  long  she'd  ben  there?" 

She  endeavored  to  be  calm.  She  did  not 
know  where  to  wreak  her  anger.  And  she 
almost  believed  it  was  an  accident. 

"  I've  ben  there  quite  a  spell,"  she  an- 
swered. "  I  only  hope  I  sha'n't  have  the 
rheumatiz  to  pay  for  it.  I  jest  went  down 
with  my  butter.  I  s'pose  when  I  shet  the 
door  behind  me,  the  button  turned  right 
on  to  it.  I've  ben  waitin'  for  you  to 
come  home.  I  got  tired  hollerin'  to  Ma- 
rietta. Besides,  I  locked  her  into  the  bed- 


70  DALLY 

room  for  bein'  sassy.  I  guess  she  went  to 
sleep." 

Mrs.  Winslow  was  quite  mild.  As  she 
walked  across  the  kitchen  to  the  bedroom 
door  she  went  so  far  as  to  express  sorrow 
that  supper  wasn't  ready,  and  thought  they'd 
have  to  do  with  bread  and  milk  this  time. 

Marietta,  behind  that  bedroom  door,  was, 
to  put  it  rather  strongly,  in  a  trance  of  grati- 
tude that  things  were  turning  out  this  way. 

She  felt  sure  that  Dally,  waiting  round 
outside  the  house  for  a  chance  to  see  her, 
had  seen  her  mother  go  down  to  the  cellar, 
and  had  promptly  and  silently  walked  in 
and  turned  that  button.  And  she  herself 
had  gone  off  with  Dally  before  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  was  ready  to  come  up  from  the  cellar. 

Marietta  thought  of  a  Sunday-  school 
story  she  had  just  read,  where  everything 
had  worked  together  for  good  for  two  chil- 
dren because  they  did  not  do  wrong.  Here 
was  a  case  that  made  her  almost  think  that 
things  were  quite  as  likely  to  work  together 
for  good  if  you  did  do  wrong.  If  anything 
ever  seemed  what  folks  called  providential, 
this  state  of  affairs  seemed  so. 

The  door  was  now  flung  open,  and  Mrs. 


DALLY  7I 

Winslow  told  her  daughter  to  run  and  milk 
some  of  the  cows  for  her  father,  while  she 
"  put  a  few  victuals  onter  the  table." 

Father  and  daughter  went  silently  out. 
They  \vere  silent  until  four  of  the  cows  were 
milked.  Then,  as  they  were  going  back  to 
the  barn,  after  having  emptied  their  pails, 
Mr.  Winslow  swung  his  lantern  forward  a 
little,  so  that  its  rays  fell  on  his  companion's 
face. 

"  Marietta,"  he  said,  with  solemnity,  "  that 
suller  door  button  turns  real  hard." 

"  I  know  it  does,  father,"  she  answered, 
with  equal  solemnity. 

"  Somebody  turned  it  after  she  was  down 
suller,"  he  said.  He  usually  called  his  wife 
"she." 

Marietta  did  not  feel  that  she  could  speak. 
She  was  going  to  tell  her  father  everything, 
but  she  was  not  equal  to  doing  so  now. 

Mr.  Winslow  went  on  in  a  meditative 
manner: 

"  It  couldn't  have  ben  you,  Marietta. 
Was  that  button  turned  knowin'  that  she 
was  down  suller?" 

Marietta  set  her  milk-pail  suddenly  on  the 
ground  and  seized  her  father's  hand. 


72 


DALLY 


"Oh,  par!"  she  whispered,  "  it  all  come 
on  account  of  mar  and  the  angel  Gabriel. 
But  don't  arsk  me  no  more  now.  I'll  tell 
you  to-morrer." 

"Don't  you  fret,  little  girl,"  was  the  re- 
ply. And  Marietta  touched  her  cheek  for 
.an  instant  to  Mr.  Winslow's  shirt  sleeve  be- 
fore she  relinquished  his  hand. 

That  evening  after  all  had  gone  to  bed  in 
the  Winslow  house  save  its  mistress,  a  wom- 
an was  standing  in  the  kitchen  with  a  small 
kerosene  lamp  in  her  hand. 

She  had  a  short  petticoat  and  sacque  on, 
for  she  had  paused  in  the  act  of  undressing, 
being  struck  by  a  sudden  suspicion. 

She  felt  that  she  wished  to  be  alone  for 
a  few  moments,  and  alone  in  the  kitchen. 
She  held  her  lamp  extended  and  was  look- 
ing intently  at  the  cellar  door.  Finally  she 
advanced  and  put  one  hand  on  the  button  ; 
she  turned  it  back  and  forth  meditatively. 
Mr.  Winslow's  remark  to  his  daughter  con- 
cerning that  button  was  strictly  correct.  It 
did  "turn  real  hard."  The  slamming  of  the 
door  would  not  make  it  move  a  particle. 
But  Mrs.  Winslow  tried  that  experiment 
several  times  to  convince  herself — and  she 


DALLY  73 

was  convinced.  Her  heavy  cheeks  seemed 
to  grow  flabby  under  the  conviction.  Her 
small  eyes,  set  in  her  head  something  like 
those  of  a  pig,  began  to  have  a  dull,  red 
light  in  them.  "  She  that  was  a  Jones  "  was 
laboring  under  some  excitement.  She  heard 
her  husband  snoring  in  the  "  north  bed- 
room," and  the  sound  exasperated  her.  She 
turned  and  almost  shook  her  fist  in  that  di- 
rection, while  she  made  the  following  some- 
what irrelevant  remarks : 

"  There's  Peter,  he'd  snore  if  I  was  be- 
ing murdered  in  cold  blood." 

To  be  murdered  in  cold  blood  seemed  a 
much  more  effectual  and  dreadful  way  of 
exit  than  any  other,  and  it  was  worse  for 
Peter  to  snore  at  such  a  time. 

Mrs.  Winslow  advanced  and  turned  that 
button  again  ;  she  was  fascinated  by  it. 

"  It  never  done  itself,  after  all,"  she  said 
aloud.  After  a  somewhat  long  silence 
she  uttered  the  sequel  to  the  above  re- 
mark in  the  following  words  :  "  Somebody 
done  it." 

She  held  the  lamp  close  to  the  button  and 
peered  at  it  as  if  she  were  a  detective  and 
were  about  to  find  a  small  drop  of  blood. 


74 


DALLY 


The  oak  button  remained  silent  and  entirely 
secretive.  One  might  almost  have  said  that 
it  taunted  her. 

Mrs.  Winslow  withdrew  the  lamp  and  set 
it  on  the  table.  She  put  her  hands  on  her 
hips  and  asked : 

"Who  done  it?" 

The  empty  room  made  no  reply.  Mr. 
Winslow  continued  to  snore. 

Instead  of  becoming  calm  as  the  moments 
flew  on,  this  lady  felt  more  and  more  indig- 
nant. It  certainly  was  not  soothing  to  be 
obliged  to  spend  so  much  time  in  one's  cel- 
lar. 

"Why  didn't  Marietta  hear  me  hol- 
ler?" suddenly  asked  Mrs.  Winslow,  still 
addressing  space,  and  again  space  did  not 
reply. 

A  score  of  questions  were  let  loose  in 
Mrs.  Winslow's  brain.  She  told  herself  that 
she  shouldn't  sleep  a  wink  that  night.  She 
said  aloud  that  "  she'd  find  out  who  done  it, 
and  then — "  here  words  failed  her. 

She  disappeared  within  the  bedroom  ;  the 
light  went  out  and  in  five  minutes  there 
were  two  snoring  instead  of  one. 

Marietta  had  been  too  nervous  and   ex- 


DALLY 


75 


cited  to  sleep  as  usual,  and  so  it  happened 
that  she  lay  with  wide  open  eyes  and  caught 
some  words  of  her  mother's  soliloquy.  After 
this  soliloquy  ceased  the  child  continued  to 
toss  and  turn  in  her  room  at  the  other  end 
of  the  kitchen.  At  last,  with  the  consoling 

D 

thought  in  her  mind  that  she  "  guessed  par 
was  enough  for  'em,"  she  also  fell  asleep. 

Meanwhile  at  the  Widder  'Bijah's,  Dally 
had  passed  an  exceedingly  peaceful  night. 
She  was  like  one  who  has  the  consciousness 
of  having  done  a  good  deed.  She  had  been 
behaving,  as  Mrs.  Jacobs  said,  "  jest  beauti- 
ful "  since  drinking  the  three  bottles  of 
liquor  and  taking  the  pledge  thereafter. 
There  was  no  more  liquor  in  the  house  to 
tempt  her,  and,  besides,  the  child  felt  strong 
in  the  strength  of  her  promise  and  her  love 
for  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

They  had  eaten  their  dinner  of  pork  and 
string -beans  and  huckleberry  pie.  They 
were  still  at  the  table,  and  the  widow  was 
drinking  her  third  cup  of  tea.  Dally  sat  op- 
posite her,  a  pleasant  light  in  her  brown 
eyes  and  a  pleasant  curve  on  her  lips.  She 
was  evidently  thinking  of  something  agree- 
able. The  elder  occasionally  looked  at  the 


76  DALLY 

young  face  and  felt  her  heart  warmed  at  the 
sight. 

At  last  Dally  laughed  a  little  and  ex- 
claimed: 

"  I  wonder  if  she's  gurt  out  yet." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  smiled  in  sympathy,  and 
asked  :  "  Who's  got  out  ?" 

Dally  stooped  to  take  up  her  puppy,  who 
was  pulling  at  her  skirt,  before  she  answered, 
in  her  clear  voice,  which  had  so  little  of  the 
past  and  so  much  of  the  future  in  it :  "  That 
triflin'  ole  Winslow  'oman." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  placed  her  cup  in  its  saucer 
with  a  clatter.  She  stopped  smiling.  What 
was  she  going  to  hear  now  ? 

"  The  Lord  give  me  wisdom !"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  Don't  talk  that  way,  Dally," 
she  said,  gravely.  "You  mean  Mis'  Wins- 
low?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

The  child  held  her  puppy  up  under  her 
chin,  where  it  was  taking  a  nap. 

"  I  didn't  know  she'd  ben  shet  up." 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am.  She  war  shet  up  quite 
er  spell  yisterday,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 

"Where?" 

"  In  her  sullen" 


DALLY  77 

Mrs.  Jacobs  moved  uneasily. 

"  Who  shet  her  up  ?" 

"  Me,  ma'am,"  with  even  greater  cheerful- 
ness. "Leastways  I  turned  thur  button,  an' 
I  'low  that  did  thur  business." 


VII 

MR.  PETER  WINSLOW  WARNS  THE  WIDOW 

IRS.  JACOBS  abruptly  rose  from  the 
dinner -table  when  she  heard  this 
admission  from  Dally  that  she  had 
turned  that  "  suller-door  button,"  and  thus 
made  Mrs.  Winslow  a  prisoner  in  her  own 
house,  or  rather  under  her  own  house. 

She  walked  to  the  window.  She  was 
alarmed  and  astonished  that  the  first  im- 
pulse of  what  she  would  have  called  her 
"  natural  heart "  was  an  impulse  of  satisfac- 
tion that  that  "  pesky  woman "  had  been 
shut  in  her  cellar.  She  wanted  to  turn  to 
Dally  and  say  it  was  good  enough  for  her. 
She  had  a  wicked  satisfaction  in  thinking 
how  Mrs.  Winslow  must  have  felt  when  she 
found  she  couldn't  get  out. 

The  widder  'Bijah  drew  herself  from  these 
thoughts  with  a  sudden  gasp  of  self-reproval. 
"And  me  a  professor!"  she  exclaimed  in  a 
whisper.  She  looked  furtively  back  at  the 


DALLY  79 

child  at  the  table.  Dally  was  placidly  in- 
troducing pieces  of  pie-crust  into  the  little 
hound's  mouth.  At  this  moment  the  girl 
glanced  up  and  met  that  perplexed  and  sor- 
rowful gaze,  and  her  own  expression  changed 
instantly.  She  hugged  the  puppy  to  her 
suddenly  and  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Master  King!"  she  cried  out,  almost 
fiercely,  "  yo'  ain't  er  lurvin'  that  ole  'oman, 
be  yo'  ?" 

,  "  No,"  said  the  widow,  "  I  don't  love  Mis' 
Winslow  a  grain." 

"  Then,  I  sh'd  think  yo'd  be  glad  she  war 
shut  urp  for  a  spell,"  said  Dally,  her  face  re- 
laxing from  its  anxious  look.  "  I  war  reck- 
onin'  yo'  wouldn't  keer.  I've  ben  aimin'  ter 
give  she  er  dab  of  some  kind,  an'  I  done  hit." 

Here  she  began  to  laugh ;  then  she  re- 
marked that  her  only  regret  was  that  she 
had  not  "  ben  round  nigh  'nough  ter  hear 
thur  critter  holler." 

During  these  remarks  the  woman  who  had 
undertaken  to  bring  up  this  Carolina  girl 
stood  looking  helplessly  at  her.  She  had  a 
feeling  that  that  "  triflin'  ole  Winslow  'oman" 
would  make  this  a  kind  of  crisis.  Some- 
thing must  be  done.  What  should  it  be? 


8o  DALLY 

The  whole  affair  seemed  to  Mrs.  Jacobs 
to  be  a  subject  for  prayerful  consideration. 
She  was  one  of  those  women  to  whom  a 
consultation  with  God  was  at  once  practica- 
ble and  needful.  But  she  talked  very  little 
about  such  things.  She  did  not  know  that 
Carlyle  had  said  that  the  man  who  talks  the 
most  about  good  deeds  does  the  fewest  of 
them ;  nevertheless  she  agreed  with  Carlyle. 

She  told  Dally  to  "  pick  up  the  dishes 
while  she  went  up-stairs  a  few  minutes." 

The  child  put  her  dog  on  the  best  chair 
cushion  and  dutifully  began  to  obey  her. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  went  into  the  spare  chamber 
and  knelt  down  by  one  of  the  hard  chairs 
which  made  part  of  the  furniture  of  that 
room. 

But  she  began  no  set  form  of  prayer.  She 
would  merely  have  said  that  she  was  "jest  a 
thinkin'."  She  leaned  her  elbows  on  the 
chair  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

The  intensity  of  the  feeling  which  pos- 
sessed her  recalled  her  younger  years,  those 
days  when  she  "  took  things  kind  of  hard," 
and  suffered  and  enjoyed  a  great  deal.  But 
those  days  were  a  great  ways  off ;  they 
seemed  to  have  been  lived  by  some  one 


DALLY  8 I 

else.  Since  then  there  was  a  vast  stretch 
of  time,  a  kind  of  dead  level  along  which 
she  had  trudged  calmly.  She  had  liked  and 
respected  'Bijah,  and  they  had  almost  al- 
ways "  seen  alike,"  and  were  very  comfort- 
able together.  She  used  to  dream  of  love, 
but  she  had  never  felt  for  her  husband  that 
thing  about  which  she  had  dreamed.  Still, 
common-sense  told  her  it  was,  as  everybody 
had  said,  "a  real  suitable  marriage." 

As  she  leaned  on  her  chair  in  her  spare 
chamber  this  August  day  she  knew  she  had 
never  loved  any  creature  in  her  life  as  she 
loved  the  child  whom  Mrs.  Lander  had  sent 
from  the  Southern  mountains.  She  had 
known  this  before,  but  it  came  over  her  now 
with  greater  and  more  overwhelming  force. 
The  strong,  passionate  cry  of  her  heart  was 
that  Dally  might  be  good  and  happy. 
Good  she  must  be,  even  if  she  missed  of  hap- 
piness. But  how  to  "  bring  her  up?"  What 
strange  ideas  she  had  !  Even  though  she 
knew  about  "  preachers  "  and  "  preachin's," 
and  could  sing  hymns  about  "  thur  Lamb," 
and  "  thur  cross  on  Calvary,"  what  a  heathen 
she  was !  If  she  were  misunderstood  and 
treated  in  the  wrong  way  now,  Mrs.  Jacobs 
6 


82  DALLY 

felt  that  the  child  might  go  to  some  unspeak- 
able bad.  She  shuddered  as  she  thought  of 
such  a  possibility.  There  was  that  in  this 
Yankee  woman's  soul  that  made  her  com- 
prehend the  untutored  sweetness  and  opu- 
lence, the  indescribable  charm  of  simplicity 
and  richness,  in  the  girl's  nature.  She  com- 
prehended in  a  way,  but  she  stood  at  a  loss 
before  it.  There  was  nothing  commonplace 
about  Dally.  If  she  glanced  at  you,  if  she 
did  but  say  "  Howdy,  ma'am,"  it  was  with 
a  curl  of  eyelash,  a  tone  of  voice,  that  were 
different  from  anything  ever  known  before 
in  Ransom ;  and  very  different  indeed  from 
what  is  usual  on  "  White  Crow  Mounting  " 
and  its  vicinity.  Ole  Tid  had  not  known 
it,  nor  Barker,  nor  any  of  those  semi-human 
beings  who  dwell  among  those  magnificent 
mountains. 

But  Mrs.  Lander  knew  it  the  instant  her 
somewhat  languid  but  very  appreciative  eyes 
had  fallen  on  the  dirty,  ragged  creature  who 
handed  up  her  fallen  glove  to  her  as  she 
sat  on  horseback  by  the  bank  of  a  rushing 
branch  at  the  foot  of  White  Crow.  She 
took  the  girl,  but  she  did  not  care  anything 
about  the  brother,  who  was  only  a  pasty, 


DALLY  83 

stolid-looking  poor  white.  After  she  had 
taken  the  girl  she  did  not  quite  wish  to 
burden  herself  with  the  actual  care  of  her. 

She  remembered  Mrs.  Jacobs,  with  whom 
she  sometimes  spent  a  week  or  two  in  the 
summer.  Just  the  place  for  the  child.  Mrs. 
Lander  would  contribute  plenty  of  money 
when  it  was  necessary,  and  she  would  like 
to  see  what  that  squalid  creature  with  such 
eyes  and  such  a  fascinating  suggestiveness 
would  become  after  a  few  years  in  civilized 
life.  Life  was  civilized  in  this  New  England 
village,  but,  of  course,  in  this  lady's  eyes  it 
was  not  precisely  enlightened.  Mrs.  Lander 
thought  of  this  waif  often  enough  to  send 
an  occasional  check,  which  Mrs.  Jacobs  scru- 
pulously deposited  in  the  bank  for  Daily's 
future  use. 

The  kneeling  woman  tried  to  recall  her 
wandering  thoughts  to  the  particular  sub- 
ject in  hand  now  —  the  imprisonment  of 
Mrs.  Winslow.  It  would  not  do  to  pass 
that  over.  But  the  difficulties  of  the  matter 
were  great. 

She  had  not  closed  the  door  behind  her. 
It  was  open  about  a  foot,  and  in  this  aper- 
ture there  now  appeared  the  figure  of  Dally. 


84  DALLY 

She  did  not  make  the  least  noise.  Under 
her  left  arm  was  the  puppy,  and  his  attitude 
showed  that  this  position  was  a  very  famil- 
iar and  acceptable  one  to  him.  He  reached 
out  his  sleek  head  and  snuffed  a  little,  then 
"turned  and  gave  one  soft  lick  on  the  cheek 
nearest  him..  He  was  the  only  one  that 
seemed  to  consider  that  things  were  all  right. 

Dally  looked  depressed  and  bewildered. 
She  hesitated.  Finally  she  crossed  the  carpet 
softly,  stood  behind  Mrs.  Jacobs  a  moment, 
then  stepped  up  and  knelt  down  with  great 
gentleness  beside  her,  put  one  hand  up  over 
her  own  face,  while  she  kept  the  dog  in  place 
with  the  other. 

The  widow  stirred  and  sighed  as  she  felt 
the  little  form  pressed  up  against  her.  She 
was  no  nearer  a  decision  than  when  she  came 
up-stairs.  She  could  not  help  a  feeling  of 
pleasure  and  relief,  however,  because  Dally 
had  come.  The  latter  remained  motionless 
in  her  position  until  Mrs.  Jacobs  put  an  arm 
around  her,  then  she  asked  without  taking 
her  hand  from  her  face : 

"  War  yo'  prayin',  aunty  ?" 

"  I  was  tryin'  to,"  was  the  answer. 

'"Bout  me?" 


DALLY  85 

"Yes." 

Silence,  during  which  the  two  kept  their 
positions,  and  the  puppy  slipped  on  to  the 
floor  and  went  to  sleep. 

Dally  spoke  again,  but  still  with  her  head 
bent  on  her  hand. 

"  Ole  Tid  useter  'low  as  prayin'  war  nigh 
onter  bein'  as  no  'count  as  cussin',  she  did." 

The  arm  about  Dally  involuntarily  tight- 
ened, but  Mrs.  Jacobs  did  not  reply.  Pres- 
ently Dally  said,  as  if  to  herself:  "But  ole 
Tid  war  horrid,  anyway."  Then  she  made 
this  remark : 

"  I  reckon  'tis  better  ter  pray  nor  'tis  to 
cuss." 

"  Don't  talk  about  cussin',"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"  No,  ma'am." 

A  very  long  silence  now  came,  during 
which  the  widow  groped  in  vain  for  the  right 
course  to  take.  She  was  keenly  aware  of 
the  dearness  of  the  child  within  her  arm, 
and  she  could  not  be  keenly  aware  of  any- 
thing else  in  any  available  manner.  She  felt 
that  she  was  drifting  into  a  very  bad  way. 
It  almost  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  in 
danger  of  becoming  shiftless.  She  recalled 
how  very  severe  she  had  always  been  in  her 


86  DALLY 

judgment  of  mothers  who  did  not  sufficient- 
ly discipline  their  children.  She  had  always 
said  it  was  all  nonsense  to  spare  the  rod. 
She  had  asserted  that  when  you  didn't  know 
what  to  do  with  a  child,  then  was  the  time  to 
give  it  a  taste  of  the  birch.  Her  whole  be- 
ing shrank  with  horror  from  the  thought  of 
whipping  Dally.  Doubtless,  though,  she  had 
often  and  cruelly  been  beaten. 

Hardly  knowing  that  she  spoke,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't  shet  up  Mis'  Wins- 
low." 

Now  Dally  raised  her  head  from  her  hand, 
that  she  might  look  at  her  friend. 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  lurv  her,"  she  said. 

"I  don't." 

"Then,  why  do  you  care?" 

"Can't  you  understand  that  you  mustn't 
do  wrong  to  a  person,  even  if  you  don't  love 
'em?"  vehemently  asked  Mrs.  Jacobs,  almost 
beside  herself  as  to  the  best  course  to  pursue. 

"  She  did  wrong  ter  me.  She  wanted  ter 
take  my  dog  from  me,"  said  Dally. 

"  But  we've  got  to  see  that  we  don't  do 
wrong  ourselves,"  was  the  helpless  answer. 

The  girl  did  not  speak.     She  was  leaning 


DALLY  87 

against  Mrs.  Jacobs  and  seemed  to  be  think- 
ing deeply.  Apparently,  as  a  result  of  that 
thinking,  she  announced  at  last  that  she 
"  thought  it  done  that  ole  'oman  good  ter 
be  shut  urp  in  thur  suller  er  spell.  An'  me 
an'  Marietta  had  thur  best  kind  of  er  time 
on  thur  sycamore." 

Her  face  lighted  as  she  said  these  last 
words.  She  always  called  the  bicycle  a  syca- 
more, and  could  not  seem  to  remember  the 
correct  name.  She  was  patiently  corrected 
for  the  twentieth  time. 

The  sound  of  wheels  was  now  heard  in  the 
yard,  and  presently  a  man's  voice  crying, 
"Whoa!  stand  still,  can't  ye?" 

The  two  in  the  spare  chamber  rose  hur- 
riedly from  their  knees.  Heavy  boots  were 
walking  on  the  oilcloth  of  the  kitchen,  and 
somebody  said : 

"  Where  be  ye  all  ?" 

"  It's  Mr.  Winslow,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs. 
She  pushed  the  child  gently  back  into  the 
room  and  told  her  to  stay  there  till  she  was 
called.  Then  she  went  slowly  down -stairs 
and  greeted  her  visitor  rather  solemnly. 

The  gentleman  said  "he  guessed  it  wa'n't 
wuth  while  to  se'  down  ;  he  couldn't  stop  er 


DALLY 

minute.  He  thought  he'd  run  in,  bein's  he 
was  goin'  by." 

Having  said  this,  he  stood  near  the  door 
and  seemed  to  wish  he  had  not  run  in,  even 
though  he  was  going  by. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  asked  him  if  he  had  had  good 
luck  with  his  medder  hay.  She  inquired  if 
his  medders  were  all  growin'  up  with  young 
willers  as  hers  were.  He  did  not  seem  in- 
terested in  "young  willers,"  and  his  hostess 
asked  him  no  more  questions,  but  sat  uneasily 
waiting,  till  Mr.  Winslow  abruptly  burst  forth 
with  these  words : 

"  I'm  mighty  afraid  that  when  she  does 
find  out  who  done  it  she'll  make  a  pretty  bad 
fuss." 

"  Don't  she  know  who  done  it  ?"  anxiously 
questioned  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"  Not  yet.  When  I  got  home  last  night 
I  found  her  locked  in  the  suller.  She  couldn't 
git  out  till  I  let  her  out." 

In  spite  of  the  best  resolves  in  the  world, 
a  smile  crept  round  Peter  Winslow's  mouth 
as  he  thus  spoke.  Mrs.  Jacobs  saw  this 
smile,  and  he  knew  she  saw  it.  She  raised 
her  apron  and  deliberately  wiped  her  lips. 

"  I   thought   I'd  tell  ye,  so  ye  might  be 


DALLY  89 

kinder  prepared  when  it  does  come,"  went 
on  the  kind  voice  that  Marietta  Winslow 
found  so  comforting.  "  I'm  reckonin'  on  its 
bein'  kinder  tough.  You  c'n  be  thinkin' 
what  ye  oughter  do  'bout  it.  Marietta  told 
me  the  whole  story.  Of  course  it  was  very 
wrong  ter  turn  that  suller-door  button." 

He  shook  his  head  with  deep  seriousness. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  asserted  that  it  was  very  wrong. 
Mr.  Winslow  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  'Tain't  necessary  ter  say  I  said  nothin'  on 
the  subject,"  he  remarked,  with  a  great  at- 
tempt at  speaking  in  a  casual  manner.  "  It 
won't  take  her  long  ter  find  out.  She's  study- 
in'  on  it  every  minute.  She  won't  rest  till 
she's  got  to  the  root  of  it.  P'raps  you'll  have 
to  punish  Dally.  I  guess  I'll  be  goin'.  You 
know  'tain't  the  first  thing  Daily's  done  to 
her.  Save  some  of  that  sweet  corn  for  seed, 
won't  ye,  Mis'  Jacobs  ?  I  ain't  seen  none  like 
it  in  town." 

He  pointed  his  whip  at  the  patch  of  sweet 
corn  near  the  house.  Then  he  climbed  into 
his  cart ;  the  horses  started  ;  the  wind  bulged 
out  his  shirt  in  the  way  so  annoying  to  his 
wife  and  so  worthy,  in  her  opinion,  of  the  in- 
terference of  the  anerel  Gabriel. 


go  DALLY 

Up-stairs  the  hound  puppy  gave  two  or 
three  very  young-sounding  barks.  Then  the 
household  settled  down  into  waiting  until 
Mrs.  Jacobs  could  decide  what  to  do  in  view 
of  Daily's  misdeed,  and  until  Mrs.  Winslow 
should  find  out  "  who  done  it." 


VIII 

DALLY  CONFESSES 

VEHICLE  which  was  commonly 
mentioned  as  the  "  deepo'  wagon  " 
was  coming  along  slowly  on  the 
road  which  leads  from  the  Centre.  It  always 
moved  slowly,  no  matter  what  the  reason 
might  be  why  one  would  think  it  should 
hasten.  Mr.  Dodson  was  never  affected  by 
any  remonstrance  of  impatient  passengers. 
He  knew  they  must  be  taken  in  his  wagon, 
or  they  must  walk.  So  he  used  to  expecto- 
rate over  the  right-hand  front  wheel  with 
great  enjoyment  when  any  one  fumed  and 
fretted  because  the  horse  barely  trotted 
down  a  hill,  and  walked  on  the  level  and  up 
every  ascent. 

Sometimes,  if  a  furious  man,  unused  to  the 
ways  of  the  town,  went  so  far  as  to  swear,  Mr. 
Dodson  would  look  back  at  him  over  his 
slouching  shoulder  and  tell  him  that  "  folks 
that  wanted  to  go  fast  better  stick  to  the 
steam-cars,  and  not  come  out  to  Ransom." 


g2  DALLY 

Then  the  man  who  had  sworn  would  swear 
once  more ;  this  time  that  nothing  should 
ever  bring  him  to  Ransom  again.  Where- 
upon silence  would  fall,  and  the  horse  would 
seem  to  go  more  moderately  than  before,  and 
its  driver  would  look  perfectly  satisfied  as  he 
leaned  on  his  knees  and  placidly  waved  kis 
whip  over  the  back  of  his  steed. 

This  morning  the  depot  wagon  was  not 
conveying  a  man,  but  a  woman,  who  sat  on 
the  back  seat,  and  looked  over  the  fields  and 
hills  as  one  looks  who  loves  them,  but  who 
does  not  live  among  them. 

Sometimes  her  glance  would  come  back  to 
Mr.  Dodson,  and  would  dwell  amusedly  upon 
him.  She  believed  that,  if  she  could  come 
here  a  hundred  years  from  now,  she  would 
find  that  same  depot  wagon,  pulled  by  the 
same  roan  horse,  who  had  "  knock-knees,"  and 
whose  ears  flopped  so  very  wide  apart.  And 
this  horse  would  be  driven  by  the  same  driver, 
who  would  distribute  a  great  deal  of  tobacco- 
stained  saliva  along  "the  highway.  She  had 
known  Mr.  Dodson  ever  since  she  could  re- 
member anything.  He  had  looked  precisely 
as  he  did  now.  He  had  always  embraced  ev- 
ery occasion  on  which  to  say  that  he  "  didn't 


DALLY  93 

believe  women  oughter  be  a  gittin'  outer 
their  places,  'n'  meddlin'  with  public  mat- 
ters." He  didn't  think  women  were  meant 
by  the  Almighty  to  know  anything  about 
"  public  matters."  This  last  phrase  was 
very  popular  with  him  ;  it  seemed  to  mean 
a  great  deal,  and  to  give  him  a  vast  amount 
of  comfort  every  time  he  used  it.  If  he  had 
been  made  to  define  those  words,  he  would 
probably  have  said  that  public  matters  were 
what  women  ought  not  to  know.  If  any- 
body wanted  more  definition  than  that,  that 
person  must  be  very  exacting. 

Mr.  Dodson  invariably  wore  an  old  silk 
hat.  As  he  was  never  seen  with  a  new  one, 
it  was  a  subject  of  conjecture  in  the  town  as 
to  where  he  found  so  many  hats  in  exactly 
the  same  stage  of  dilapidation. 

Mrs.  Lander's  eyes  returned  from  a  long 
gaze  at  the  pine  woods  which  crowned  a  hill 
by  which  they  were  driving.  She  looked  at 
the  silk  hat  before  her,  and  she  remembered 
a  number  of  surmises  concerning  it  which  she 
had  heard  fifteen  years  ago  at  a  sewing-circle 
at  old  Cap'n  Jones's.  She  did  not  know  why, 
but  at  the  vivid  remembrance  of  that  sewing- 
circle,  when  she  had  been  young,  and  had  not 


94 


DALLY 


known  anything  beyond  Ransom,  her  pulses 
suddenly  stirred.  She  did  not  seem  quite 
so  indolent  as  she  bent  forward  and  inquired 
if  there  was  any  news  in  town. 

Mr.  Dodson  meditated  a  moment ;  then 
he  said  that  "  the  garden  sass  had  all  ben 
dried  up.  It  hadn't  ben  no  such  dry  time 
for  thirteen  years." 

Mrs.  Lander  expressed  her  sorrow  at  this. 
She  said  she  was  always  "  fond  of  garden 
sass."  She  said  "  fond  "  because  she  knew 
that  was  the  correct  word  to  use  here  when 
speaking  of  a  preference  for  a  certain  kind 
of  food.  One  might  be  fond  of  one's  lover; 
also  of  cucumbers  and  string-beans. 

Mr.  Dodson  nodded  his  head.  He  had  a 
sense  of  relief  that  his  passenger  did  not 
seem  stuck-up.  He  frequently  told  his  inti- 
mate acquaintances  that  "  nothin'  in  the 
world  made  him  so  mad  as  to  see  somebody 
that  was  stuck-up." 

Presently  Mrs.  Lander  inquired  if  the  dry- 
ing up  of  the  garden  sass  had  been  all  that 
had  happened  since  last  year. 

"  Mr.  Alden  has  ben  havin'  kind  of  er  re- 
vivil  in  his  church,"  was  the  reply.  "  There's 
ben  some  awakenin'  'mong  unbelievers.  I'm 


DALLY 


95 


in  hopes  the  revivil  will  extend  to  Mr.  Star- 
key's  charge." 

Mr.  Dodson  was  a  Baptist,  and  his  pastor's 
name  was  Starkey. 

Mrs.  Lander  did  not  seem  greatly  interest- 
ed in  this  news ;  but  she  made  a  little  mur- 
mur of  assent,  and  would  have  leaned  back 
in  her  seat,  only  that  no  one  could  ever  lean 
or  do  anything  but  sit  bolt  upright  in  the 
deepo'  wagon. 

Mr.  Dodson  shook  the  lines  on  the  roan's 
back,  and  the  roan  walked  even  more  delib- 
erately. He  coughed  and  spat,  and  then  said 
that  the  "  Widder  'Bijah  was  one  of  the  pil- 
lars of  Mr.  Alden's  church,  'n'  he  thought  it 
would  look  well  in  her  to  draw  the  reins  er 
little  tighter  onter  that  Caroliny  gal  she'd 
got  there  with  her." 

At  these  words  Mrs.  Lander's  somewhat 
languid  eyes  took  on  a  look  of  interest. 

"  How  does  the  little  girl  behave?"  she 
asked. 

The  driver  threw  up  his  head  and  opened 
his  mouth  very  wide.  He  made  no  sound, 
and  there  was  no  mirth  visible  on  his  face. 
Still,  from  previous  observation,  Mrs.  Lander 
knew  that  he  was  laughing.  She  waited  un- 
til his  hilarity  should  subside. 


96  DALLY 

"  She  behaves  like  the  old  Harry,"  he  said. 
"Wuss'n  that,  the  widder's  jest  wrapped  up 
in  her.  I'd  know  what's  goin'  ter  become  of 
the  Widder  'Bijah  'long  of  that  gal." 

He  paused  a  moment,  looking  down  the 
road  ;  then  he  added,  "  There  they  be  now." 

Mrs.  Lander  looked  also.  She  saw  Mrs. 
Jacobs's  portly  figure,  crowned  by  a  ging- 
ham sun-bonnet.  She  detected  immediately 
that  there  was  an  air  of  importance  and  de- 
termination in  the  widow's  walk. 

Holding  her  hand  was  a  slim  form  in  a 
pale-blue  gown,  with  a  white  straw  hat  on 
its  head.  This  second  figure  moved  with  a 
spring  and  a  lightness  which  made  her  com- 
panion's movements  seem  more  heavy  than 
usual. 

The  two  gazed  at  the  wagon,  knowing  that 
some  one  must  have  come  from  the  "  Farn- 
ham  deepo',"  for  this  was  out  of  Mr.  Dod- 
son's  regular  route. 

"  I'll  get  out  here,"  said  Mrs.  Lander. 
"  Take  my  luggage  to  Mrs.  Jacobs's." 

"  But  she  ain't  to  home,"  remonstrated 
Mr.  Dodson. 

The  lady  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
reply.  She  was  used  to  being  obeyed.  She 


DALLY  97 

put  some  money  in  the  man's  hand,  and 
climbed  down  unaided  to  the  ground.  She 
went  forward  to  meet  the  two,  and  Mr.  Dod- 
son,  instead  of  going  on,  waited  to  watch  the 
meeting. 

"  My  goodness !"  the  widow  had  said,  "  if 
there  ain't  Mis'  Lander!"  and  she  had  hast- 
ened forward. 

Dally  had  not  said  anything.  She  had 
seen  that  graceful  and  indolent  woman  at 
the  foot  of  "  White  Crow  Mounting."  It 
was  she  who  had  taken  her  away  from  Ole 
Tid  and  sent  her  here.  In  Daily's  mind, 
Mrs.  Lander  had  always  been  something 
more  than  a  mere  woman.  Could  a  com- 
mon human  being  have  hands  so  soft  and 
white  and  writh  such  a  caressing  touch  ?  Did 
those  wonderfully  fitting  clothes  grow  on 
her,  or  what  made  them  so  different  from 
anything  she  had  ever  seen  before  ?  There 
was  no  one  in  Ransom  like  her.  She  was 
almost  as  unlike  people  in  Ransom  as  she 
was  unlike  those  near  Ole  Tid's. 

Mrs.  Lander,  whose  lingering  glance  ob- 
served everything,  observed  that  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs had  the  air  of  a  person  who  is  on  her 
way  to  have  a  tooth  pulled,  and  who  is  grate- 
7 


gS  DALLY 

ful  for  an  interruption.  She  also  saw  that 
Dally  was  pale,  as  if  she  were  pale  from  de- 
termination. 

Mrs.  Lander  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs. Then  she  turned  to  Dally,  and  put  a 
hand  on  each  shoulder,  looking  down  for  a 
moment  into  the  child's  upturned  eyes.  Af- 
ter that  gaze  Dally  felt  herself  enveloped  in 
two  warm  arms ;  she  inhaled  a  faint  odor  of 
violets ;  a  gentle  and  yet  penetrating  kiss 
was  pressed  on  her  lips. 

When  she  emerged  from  that  embrace  she 
was  paler  than  before  ;  but  this  time  her  pal- 
lor was  from  happiness. 

She  suddenly  forgot  the  errand  upon  which 
she  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  were  going. 

But  Mrs.  Jacobs  could  not  forget  it.  She 
began  immediately  to  brace  herself  again. 

"Now,  Mis'  Lander,  you  mustn't  hender 
me,"  she  said.  "  I'll  give  you  the  key,  'n' 
you  go  right  in.  We  sh'll  be  there  'fore 
long." 

Mrs.  Lander  saw  Daily's  face  appear  to 
become  stiff  with  resolution  again. 

"Where  are  you  going?  To  a  dentist?" 
she  inquired. 

"  I  wish  I  was !"    exclaimed    the  widow. 


DALLY  99 

"  I'd  ruther  have  out  every  tooth  I've  got 
left  in  my  head.  We've  got  to  go  to  Mis' 
Winslow's.  Daily's  ben  naughty  to  her,  'n' 
she's  promised  me  to  confess  'n'  arsk  her  for- 
giveness. She  knows  I'd  ruther  do  it  my- 
self, only  I  ain't  the  guilty  one,  so  I  can't." 

Dally  grasped  the  speaker's  hand  with  both 
her  own. 

Mrs.  Lander  smiled.  Both  Mrs.  Jacobs 
and  her  charge  wondered  how  any  one  could 
smile  at  such  a  time ;  but  the  very  fact  that 
any  one  could  do  so  was  in  itself  cheering  to 
Dally. 

"What  has  Dally  done?"  was  the  next  in- 
quiry. 

"  She  shet  Mis'  Winslow  into  her  suller." 

Mrs.  Lander  smiled  again.  She  said  that 
no  doubt  Mr.  Winslow  would  be  grateful  if 
his  wife  could  be  shut  in  the  cellar  all  the 
time. 

"  Now  don't  you  go  'n'  talk  that  way,"  re- 
monstrated the  widow,  "jest  when  I've  made 
Dally  see  she  oughter  confess.  Mis'  Wins- 
low  bein'  what  she  is  don't  change  the  child's 
fault  any." 

"  It  gives  some  provocation,  though." 

Mrs.  Lander  proposed  that  she  should  go 


100  DALLY 

with  Dally  to  Mrs.  Winslow's,  and  that  Mrs. 
Jacobs  should  turn  and  go  home. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  wanted  so  much  to  accept  the 
proposition  that  she  felt  it  must  be  wrong. 
She  insisted  upon  going,  and  Mrs.  Lander 
insisted  upon  accompanying  them. 

Daily's  spirit  revived  somewhat  as  they 
walked  along.  Nothing  short  of  the  great 
love  she  bore  "aunty"  could  have  sufficed 
to  make  her  promise  as  she  had  done.  In 
all  her  life  there  had  never  come  to  her  any- 
thing so  hard  as  this.  She  told  herself  over 
and  over  that  she  would  rather  die.  It  is 
astonishing  how  easy  a  matter  death  seems 
to  early  youth.  Mrs.  Jacobs  saw  how  dread- 
ful what  she  asked  of  Dally  was,  but,  as  she 
said,  she  "  couldn't  see  her  way  no  other 
how."  It  almost  seemed  as  if  she  would  be 
neglecting  a  corner-stone  of  the  child's  im- 
mortal education  if  she  should  let  this  pass, 
and  she  counted  on  making  a  move  in  the 
matter  before  Mrs.  Winslow  had  made  any 
discovery.  And  had  not  Peter  Winslow 
warned  her  that  his  wife  "wa'n't  goin'  to 
leave  no  stone  unturned?" 

The  Winslow  residence  presented  an  en- 
tirely deserted  appearance.  But  then,  it  al- 


DALLY  101 

ways  looked  so.  Every  blind  was  shut  tow- 
ards the  road.  The  blinds  on  the  front  door 
seemed  to  say  that  nothing  less  than  a  funeral 
could  open  them.  The  walk  to  that  door  was 
paved  with  smooth  round  beach  stones,  brown 
and  white,  arranged  in  alternate  rows.  No 
spear  of  grass  ever  dared  to  grow  between 
those  stones.  The  three  walked  over  this 
way  and  round  to  the  right,  to  a  less  elab- 
orate gravel  path.  As  they  reached  the  back 
porch  they  came  upon  Mrs.  Winslow  putting 
clothes  to  soak  in  a  large  tub,  and  Marietta 
putting  clothes  to  soak  in  a  small  tub. 

When  Marietta  saw  that  Dally  was  with 
the  two  women,  she  first  seemed  much  fright- 
ened ;  then  she  recovered  sufficiently  to  hold 
up  a  pillow-case  in  such  a  way  that  it  shield- 
ed her  face  while  she  opened  her  mouth  and 
eyes  to  their  fullest  extent  in  warning  panto- 
mime to  Dally.  Dally  saw  this  pantomime, 
and  at  any  other  time  would  have  replied  to 
it  in  kind,  but  now  her  mind  was  so  filled  with 
the  dreadful  duty  before  her  that  she  only 
stared  at  Marietta  and  made  no  response. 

Mrs.  Winslow  hurriedly  wiped  her  hands 
on  a  table-cloth,  which  had  not  yet  been 
placed  in  the  tub.  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  secret- 


102  DALLY 

ly  glad  that  their  hostess  appeared  some- 
what "  flustered "  by  the  presence  of  the 
lady  from  New  York. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said,  "  I  wa'n't  expectin' 
of  ye,  Mis'  Lander." 

'  "  Naturally,"  was  the  reply,  "  you  couldn't 
be  expecting  of  me,  Mrs.  Winslow ;  I  only 
decided  at  the  latest  moment  last  night  to 
take  the  Fall  River  boat.  It  was  even  too 
late  to  telegraph  to  you,  if  one  could  get  a 
telegram  in  Ransom,  which  fortunately  one 
can't,  not  until  a  day  or  two  after  it  is  sent." 

For  some  reason  this  reply,  given  very 
calmly  and  sweetly,  seemed  to  confuse  Mrs. 
Winslow  still  more.  She  put  her  hands  in 
the  soapy  water,  and  was  obliged  to  wipe 
them  again.  In  consequence  of  thus  forget- 
ting herself,  she  looked  at  Marietta  viciously, 
and  told  her  sharply  that  "  she  ought  to  be 
whipped  for  not  running  without  being  told 
to  see  if  the  tea-kittle  boiled." 

Marietta  rolled  her  sudsy  hands  in  her 
apron,  and  departed  for  the  kitchen.  But 
at  the  door,  which  was  behind  her  mother's 
back,  this  child  found  the  opportunity  to  turn 
again  to  Dally  and  to  indulge  once  more 
in  the  extreme  opening  of  mouth  and  eyes. 


DALLY 


IO3 


This  time,  comforted  by  Mrs.  Winslow's  ev- 
ident discomfiture,  Dally  smiled  broadly,  and 
was  immediately  asked  by  Marietta's  mother 
what  she  found  to  laugh  at.  Dally  promptly 
responded,  "  Nothin',"  and  Marietta  disap- 
peared. 

As  the  two  women  continued  to  stand  on 
the  stoop,  Mrs.  Winslow  was  obliged  to  tell 
them  to  "come  right  in  'n'  se'  down." 

Mrs.  Lander  thanked  her  effusively.  The 
next  moment  all  three  were  sitting  in  the 
semi-dark  parlor,  and  Dally  was  standing  by 
Mrs.  Jacobs  and  looking  at  a  "  mourning- 
piece  "  hung  on  the  wall  opposite,  in  the 
only  light  place  in  the  room.  This  piece 
was  a  representation  of  a  section  of  some 
very  ornate  graveyard.  A  tall  and  much- 
carved  marble  monument,  with  a  weeping  an- 
gel on  the  top  of  it,  was  in  the  middle  dis- 
tance. In  front  was  a  group  composed  of  a 
large  man  in  evening  dress,  holding  his  hat 
in  his  hand  ;  a  tall  lady,  not  in  evening  dress, 
but  in  a  black  gown  completely  swathed  about 
with  a  crape  veil ;  a  youth  in  Eton  jacket  and 
hat,  with  his  hand  just  raised  as  if  to  remove 
that  hat ;  a  small  girl  in  more  veil,  and  hav- 
ing in  her  arms  a  doll  that  had  a  face  so  very 


104 


DALLY 


cheerful  that  one  might  have  wished  it  had 
not  been  brought  into  this  cemetery.  On 
an  open  space  left  for  the  purpose  on  the 
monument  were  the  lines :  "  Sacred  to  the 
memory  of — "  Dally  could  not  read  any 
further ;  indeed,  she  found  some  difficulty 
in  spelling  that  much  out.  All  the  people 
assembled  in  the  picture,  with  the  one  excep- 
tion of  the  doll,  seemed  to  be  reading  the  in- 
scription with  the  utmost  unction. 

Thus  gazing,  Dally  heard  Mrs.  Lander's 
melodious  voice  saying,  with  a  great  deal  of 
sympathy : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear,  Mrs.  Winslow,  that 
you  have  been  shut  up  in  your  cellar.  Did 
you  suffer  much  inconvenience?" 

A  purple  flush  rose  slowly  to  Mrs.  Wins- 
low's  face.  She  forgot  herself,  and  spoke 
violently: 

"  How'd  that  git  out  ?  Peter's  ben  blab- 
bin',  I  s'pose.  No,  'twa'n't  nothin'.  I  didn't 
mind  it  none.  'Tain't  worth  speakin'  about." 

Dally  had  grown  very  rigid.  She  stood 
off  a  little  from  Mrs.  Jacobs,  but  her  small 
fingers  clung  convulsively  to  the  widow's 
hand.  She  was  perfectly  white.  She  did 
not  know  how  the  dusky  eyes  of  Mrs.  Lan- 


DALLY  105 

der  were  on  her.  All  she  knew  besides  the 
task  before  her  was  that  the  hand  to  which 
she  clung  held  her  firmly  and  encouragingly. 
She  stood  very  straight,  and  looked  intent- 
ly at  a  large  moth-patch  on  the  left  side  of 
Mrs.  Winslow's  forehead. 

"  I  turned  thur  button,"  she  said,  in  a  high 
voice.  "  I  done  it,  an'  I'm  sorry,  'cause 
aunty's  felt  so  'bout  it.  I — "  here  she 
paused,  and  put  one  hand  to  her  throat 
with  a  movement  which  made  Mrs.  Lander 
half  rise  from  her  seat  as  if  to  go  to  her. 

With  her  hand  at  that  slender  white  throat, 
the  child's  eyes  turned  pathetically  to  those 
of  Mrs.  Jacobs.  Then  Dally  looked  again 
at  that  moth-patch,  and  said,  in  a  still  higher 
voice : 

"  I  arsk  yo'  ter  fergive  me,  Mis'  Winslow." 

As  the  last  word  left  her  lips  Dally  flung 
herself  like  a  tempest  upon  Mrs.  Jacobs,  who 
caught  and  held  her  fast. 


IX 

MRS.  WINSLOW   OFFERS   A   FEW   PORTERS 

QUIVER  of  rage  went  over  Mrs. 

Winslow's  big  body  when  she  heard 

Daily's  confession. 
"  I  was  sure  on't !"  she  cried  out,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  were  going  to  reach  forth  a 
hand  and  clutch  the  child. 

In  an  interval  of  absolute  silence  which 
followed  there  was  heard  a  scratching  at  the 
door,  accompanied  by  a  whine.  Then  the 
door  was  opened  by  an  invisible  hand,  sup- 
posed to  belong  to  Marietta,  and  Daily's 
hound  puppy  came  creeping  deprecatingly 
in  and  crouched  close  to  the  feet  of  his  mis- 
tress. It  was  a  notable  fact  that  all  dogs, 
young  or  old,  wore  an  air  of  deprecation 
when  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Winslow.  They 
were  apparently  begging  her  to  overlook  the 
unfortunate  fact  that  they  were  alive  in  the 
same  world  with  her. 

Mrs.  Jacobs,  with  her  arms  about  Dally, 


DALLY  107 

was  gazing  at  her  hostess,  and  saying  to  her- 
self that  "  that  pesky  woman  was  really  worse 
than  she  had  thought  she  was."  It  passed 
her  comprehension  that  any  human  being 
could  so  receive  an  agonized  confession  from 
a  little  girl. 

Mrs.  Lander  rose.  Her  cool,  persistent 
gaze  covered  that  disagreeable,  perturbed 
face  something  as  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver 
might  have  covered  it.  Mrs.  Winslow  be- 
gan to  writhe  visibly.  It  had  been  a  long 
time  since  Mrs.  Lander  had  been  so  angry; 
and  when  this  lady  was  angry  somebody 
usually  suffered. 

The  widder  'Bijah  glanced  at  her  and  felt 
her  spirits  rise  perceptibly. 

"  I  guess  she'll  fix  her,"  she  thought,  "  'n' 
I  don't  care  how  much  she  fixes  her.  The 
more  the  better." 

But  Providence  had  arranged  that  the  fix- 
ing of  Mrs.  Winslow,  in  this  instance,  should 
not  be  entirely  effected  by  Mrs.  Lander,  al- 
though she  began  the  process. 

"  Is  there  a  revival  meeting  at  Mr.  Alden's 
church  to-night?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lander, 
with  apparent  irrelevance.  Her  voice  was 
so  clear,  and  her  utterance  so  distinct,  that 


103  DALLY 

Mrs.  Winslow  somehow  felt  a  great  deal 
worse.  She  continued  to  writhe  and  to  wish 
impotently  that  she  had  made  believe  forgive 
Dally  immediately.  The  very  fact  that  she 
could  not  guess  what  was  going  to  be  said 
next  added  to  her  unhappiness. 

"  I  will  go  down  to  the  prayer-meeting," 
said  Mrs.  Lander,  with  every  appearance  of 
a  calm  statement  of  intentions,  "  and  I  will 
make  a  prayer  in  which  I  will  tell  God,  be- 
fore the  people,  how  cruelly  unchristian  you 
have  been  in  not  pardoning  a  poor  child  who 
has  confessed  her  fault  to  you.  And  you 
just  told  me  that  your  being  in  the  cellar 
was  nothing.  I  shall  pray  to  God,  before 
the  people,  to  give  you  a  better  heart.  I 
shall  see  that  God  and  the  people  under- 
stand the  case  fully.  And  I  shall  do  it  this 
evening." 

Before  Mrs.  Lander  had  finished  speaking 
Dally  had  ceased  sobbing,  and  her  attitude, 
though  her  face  was  hidden,  showed  that  she 
was  listening  intently.  Here  was  some  one 
who  could  do  what  she  pleased.  The  girl 
almost  gasped  with  the  intensity  of  the  emo- 
tions she  had  undergone,  and  with  the  ad- 
miration just  added  to  them. 


DALLY 


I09 


"  Lowizy !"  exclaimed  the  widow  under  her 
breath,  in  a  mixture  of  horror  and  gratitude. 

Mrs.  Lander's  name  was  Louisa,  and  some- 
times in  moments  of  excitement  Mrs.  Jacobs 
permitted  herself  to  pronounce  the  name  by 
which  the  lady  had  been  called  in  early  youth, 
when  she  had  lived  in  Ransom,  before  she 
married  the  rich  New  York  man. 

Lowizy  turned  smilingly  towards  her  friend. 

"  Surely,  Mrs.  Jacobs,"  she  said,  "  you  do 
not  object  to  my  praying  for  a  wicked  wom- 
an." 

Mrs.  Winslow,  one  of  the  prominent  mem- 
bers of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Alden's  flock,  a  fervent 
pleader  with  the  Lord  in  times  of  revival, 
was  huddled  in  her  chair,  a  prey  to  more  and 
stronger  disagreeable  feelings  than  she  had 
known  for  a  great  many  years. 

It  was  very  hard  to  face  the  conviction 
that  Mrs.  Lander  would  do  just  what  she 
said ;  and  that  she  would  do  it  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  was  convinced. 

But  this  woman  was  not  endowed  with 
eyes  like  a  pig  without  having  a  pig's  obsti- 
nacy. She  held  back  from  giving  in  words 
forgiveness  to  Dally.  She  sat  silent  and 
looked  sullenly  at  the  group  before  her. 


1 10  DALLY 

Mrs.  Lander  was  not  going  to  wait.  She 
put  her  hand  on  Daily's  shoulder,  which 
pressed  against  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "let  us  go."  As  they 
all  turned  towards  the  door,  impetuous  foot- 
steps sounded  in  the  kitchen,  and  imme- 
diately the  figure  of  a  tall  boy  appeared. 
Marietta  was  in  the  near  background,  and 
had  the  appearance  of  clinging  to  the  boy's 
coat-tails. 

Is  it  too  much  to  -hope  that  the  reader 
may  have  remembered  that  these  chronicles 
have  mentioned  that  Bill  Winslow  meant  to 
have  given  that  puppy  to  Dally,  but  that  it 
was  Mr.  Winslow  who  actually  did  so  ? 

This  youth  had  been  visiting  his  grand- 
father over  in  "  Snapit,"  a  certain  part  of 
Ransom,  during  the  vacation,  and  had  thus 
been  kept  more  out  of  sight  than  a  mascu- 
line person  of  his  height  and  years  (seventeen 
and  a  half)  ought  to  be. 

He  returned  at  this  moment,  almost  as 
opportunely  as  if  this  had  been  a  novel  and 
he  the  hero  of  it. 

Marietta  must  have  given  him  a  hasty  and 
highly  colored  sketch  of  what  was  going  on 
in  the  parlor,  for  she  had  not  been  many  feet 


DALLY  III 

away  from  the  unlatched  door  all  the  time, 
and  she  now  stood  staring,  oblivious  that 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  suds  on  the  front 
of  her  large  "  tire,"  which  suds  she  would 
eventually  have  to  answer  for. 

It  is  an  obvious  fact  that  this  generation 
of  young  people  is  not  remarkable  for  re- 
spect and  veneration  towards  their  elders. 
And  perhaps  she  that  was  a  Jones  had  no 
reason  to  expect  either  respect  or  venera- 
tion from  her  own  son.  Certainly  she  did 
not  receive  it,  and  this  youth  was  the  only 
person  in  the  world  who  tyrannized  over  this 
woman.  Since  the  time  of  his  birth  Bill 
Winslow  had  ruled  his  mother.  If  he  did 
not  always  rule  her  with  a  rod  of  iron,  it  was 
from  no  wisdom  on  her  part,  but  from  some 
leaven  of  humanity  in  the  boy. 

He  was  a  big  fellow  of  his  age  ;  he  had  his 
father's  face,  with  a  hint  of  more  refinement 
and  individuality  of  courage  in  it.  Peter  had 
been  cowed  for  too  many  years  not  to  have 
lost  something,  both  in  appearance  and  char- 
acter. 

Bill  stood  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  while 
his  swift,  glancing  young  eyes  took  in  the 
scene.  He  snatched  off  his  hat  and  fluner 


112  DALLY 

it  behind  him.  He  looked  and  seemed  ex- 
cited. 

"  What  kind  of  a  row  is  it  you  are  hav- 
ing?" he  asked,  in  his  gruff,  immature  voice. 
"  Mother,  have  you  been  acting  like  a  fool  ? 
You  act  like  a  fool  half  the  time.  You'd 
better  forgive  Dally  double  quick.  What 
more  do  you  want  than  that  she  should  con- 
fess and  ask  your  forgiveness  ?  Come,  now ; 
hurry  up,  mother!" 

"  I  was  shet  up,"  whined  Mrs.  Winslow. 
"Oh,  William,  you  don't  know  nothin' 
'bout  it." 

"Yes  I  do,  too — Met  told  me.  Hurry  up, 
I  say." 

Mrs.  Lander  looked  at  the  boy  and  smiled 
upon  him.  It  was  a  distinct  pleasure  to  be 
even  looked  at  by  Mrs.  Lander,  if  she  were 
not  angry  ;  but  if  she  gave  you  a  smile  in  ad- 
dition to  the  glance,  the  pleasure  became  a 
happiness. 

Bill,  receiving  this  favor  from  the  lady, 
wondered  yet  more  what  his  mother  was 
made  of  that  she  could  hold  out  thus. 

But  she  had  capitulated.  "  I  forgive  you, 
Dally,"  she  said,  in  a  reluctant  tone. 

"  All  right,"  said  Bill.    "  Now  come  along, 


DALLY  113 

Dally.  How  your  dog  has  grown  !  It  was 
the  best  of  the  lot,  and  that's  why  I  wanted 
you  to  have  it." 

Ke  lifted  the  spotted  puppy  in  his  arms 
and  looked  at  Dally,  who  had  withdrawn  her- 
self from  Mrs.  Jacobs,  and  who  was  gazing 
at  Mrs.  Winslow.  Her  young  heart  was 
swollen  with  a  dreadful  sense  of  injustice 
and  a  still  more  dreadful  feeling  of  hate.  She 
thought  she  should  die  with  the  tenseness  of 
her  emotion.  She  had  scarcely  heard  the 
boy's  words.  He  repeated  them,  and  added 
that  he  had  brought  a  gray  squirrel  from 
Snapit. 

Mrs.  Lander  touched  his  arm. 

"  Don't  talk  to  her,"  she  whispered.  "  Do 
you  not  see  she  is  as  spent  as  if  she  had  been 
fighting  for  her  life  ?  Do  you  think  it  was 
easy  for  her  ito  ask  pardon  ?  It  has  almost 
killed  her.  I  believe  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  wrong." 

While  she  was  speaking  thus,  the  widow 
led  Dally  towards  the  door.  As  the  girl 
passed  the  boy  she  held  out  her  arms,  saying : 

"  I  want  my  dog."  And  Bill  gave  it  silently 
to  her.  He  followed  her  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  feeling: 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Dally.    It  was  too  bad. 


114  DALLY 

I'll  tend  to  mother.  She  sha'n't  plague 
you." 

Something  in  his  manner  now  made  Dally 
look  up  at  him.  He  was  startled  by  what 
he  saw  in  her  eyes.  It  helped  to  give  him 
more  of  an  idea  of  what  she  had  suffered,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  was  conscious  of  their 
wild  beauty.  He  recalled,  with  a  shiver  of 
inexplicable  pain,  times  when  he  had  snared 
free  creatures  and  they  had  looked  at  him  in 
their  suffering. 

"Yo've  ben  real  good  ter  me,"  said  Dally. 

She  walked  out  of  the  house  with  Mrs. 
Jacobs  and  Mrs.  Lander.  William  Winslow 
stood  a  moment  gazing  after  them,  his  hands 
thrust  far  down  in  his  pockets  and  his  eyes 
much  dilated.  Then  he  turned  into  the 
house  and  gave  his  mother  a  very  bad  quar- 
ter of  an  hour. 

Evidently  this  quarter  of  an  hour  was  a 
needed  discipline  to  Mrs.  WTinslow. 

The  next  afternoon,  while  the  widow  and 
Mrs.  Lander  and  Dally  were  sitting  at  leisure 
in  the  front  room,  an  exclamation  from  Dally 
made  the  others  look  from  the  windows. 

They  saw  the  ample  figure  of  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  slowly  approaching.  The  two  women 


DALLY  115 

looked  at  each  other,  while  the  girl  fled 
away. 

"  I  guess  she's  goin'  ter  overlook  it,"  said 
the  widder  'Bijah. 

"I  guess  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Lander.  "I 
must  say,"  she  went  on,  "  that  she  has  a  fine 
son.  It  is  wonderful." 

"  I  s'pose  he  takes  back  somevvheres,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Jacobs.  "  There's  a  good  deal 
more  to  him  than  there  is  to  his  father,  'n' 
Peter'd  ben  somethin'  more  with  a  dif  runt 
wife.  I  declare,  I  hate  the  sight  of  her;  'n' 
I  d'  know  when  Dally'll  git  over  it." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Winslow  had  reached  the 
step.  She  came  in  with  tolerable  self-posses- 
sion. She  had  a  basket  of  apples  on  one  arm. 

"  I  tho't  I'd  run  over;"  she  said,  after  the 
greetings  had  passed.  "  I  knew  you  hadn't 
no  porters  this  season,  'n'  mine  are  uncom- 
mon fine.  There  ain't  nothin'  like  um  for 
slumps.  We  eat  a  good  many  slumps  to  our 
house." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  emptied  the  porters  into  a  tin 
pan,  and  thanked  the  giver,  of  them.  She 
acknowledged  that,  for  the  delicacy  men- 
tioned by  Mrs.  Winslow,  "  there  wa'n't  noth- 
in' to  be  compared  to  porters." 


Hd  DALLY 

Mrs.  Winslow  talked  some  of  the  crops ; 
she  mentioned  how  young  Wistar  seemed 
"  to  be  wastin*  away,  'thout  nothin'  you  could 
put  yer  finger  on  bein'  the  matter  of  him." 
She  said  "  they'd  ben  havin'  another  quarrel 
in  the  orthodox  choir,  'n'  Jane  Rand  had  said 
she'd  never  set  in  them  seats  agin  the  long- 
est day  she  lived." 

To  this  Mrs.  Jacobs  remarked,  dryly,  that 
"she  wa'n't  goin'  to  worry  about  that,  for 
Jane  Rand  had  said  so  a  good  many  times 
before." 

From  the  choir  Mrs.  Winslow  touched  on 
what  she  called  the  "  revivil  meetin's"  in  her 
church.  She  said  "  they  had  been  greatly 
blessed  so  fur."  The  evangelist  they  had 
engaged  had  proved  even  more  powerful 
than  report  had  told. 

She  secretly  wished  that  Mrs.  Lander  were 
not  present ;  but  that  lady  retained  her  seat, 
and  was  so  pleasant  that  Mrs.  Winslow  could 
hardly  believe  she  had  been  the  one  who  had 
spoken  as  she  had  done  the  day  before.  The 
New  York  lady  was  like  that  girl  who  had 
the  curl  on  her  forehead,  in  that  when  she 
was  good  she  was  very,  very  good. 

Finally  the  visitor  rose.     She  looked  some- 


DALLY  117 

what  embarrassed  as  she  remarked  that  "  she 
didn't  want  no  hard  feelin's  among  neigh- 
bors," and  she  hoped  that  Dally  hadn't  run 
away  from  her. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  said  that  the  child  "had  jest 
gone  out." 

It  became  evident  that  Dally  would  have 
to  be  summoned.  She  came  slowly  in  and 
stood  by  the  door,  with  her  hands  behind 
her  and  her  head  thrown  back. 

Mrs.  Winslow  again  said  that  she  "  didn't 
want  no  hard  feelin's  among  neighbors." 

A  trying  silence  followed  these  words,  for 
Dally  made  no  response. 

"Mebby  I  was  a  little  ha'sh  yisterdy,"  said 
the  woman. 

Dally  now  looked  at  her. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "  yo'  was." 

Mrs.  Winslow  was  somewhat  disconcerted, 
and  Mrs.  Jacobs  began  to  worry  about  what 
Dally  might  say  or  do.  She  looked  at  her 
apprehensively. 

"  Mebby  'twould  have  ben  jest  as  well  if  I 
hadn't  ben  quite  so  ha'sh,"  said  the  visitor. 

The  widow,  watching,  saw  that  the  girl  was 
not  going  to  reply,  and  she  hastened  to  say 
that  she  hoped  they'd  all  let  by-gones  be  by- 


Il3  DALLY 

gones,  and  act  like  Christians.  It  didn't  look 
very  well  to  harbor  malice,  'n'  for  her  part, 
she  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  nor  let  Dally. 

Upon  this  Mrs.  Winslow  departed  with 
her  empty  basket. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  rose  and  put  her  hand  on  Dai- 
ly's shoulder. 

"  We  mustn't  lay  up  nothin"  aginst  her 
now,"  .she  said,  gently.  "  You  know  you  did 
shet  her  up  ;  'n'  we  want  ter  be  forgiven  our- 
selves." 

Daily's  eyes  turned  to  her  friend's  face  and 
softened. 

"  Ef  I  ain't  good,  'twon't  be  your  fault," 
she  said,  tremulously. 


X 

A  NEW-COMER  AT  THE  WIDOWS 

|'M  almost  afraid  the  child  is  begin- 
nin'  to  grow  up." 

It  was  Mrs.  Jacobs  who  spoke. 
She  was  sitting  in  her  front  room,  placidly 
braiding  old  pieces  of  woollen  cloth  into  a 
rug.  It  was  a  very  warm  day.  Too  warm 
for  anybody  to  work.  Mrs.  Lander,  in  some 
kind  of  a  light  gown  that  was  very  plain,  and 
yet  that  fluffed  out  on  the  floor  at  her  feet 
in  a  way  often  and  silently  admired  by  Dally, 
was  leaning  very  far  back  in  a  long  steamer- 
chair  she  had  once  provided  for  herself  in  one 
of  her  sojourns  in  this  house.  She  looked 
half  asleep.  She  had  just  said  that  it  soothed 
her  to  see  some  one  working,  and  to  know 
that  she  herself  need  not  lift  her  finger.  She 
made  the  statement  that  she  did  not  think 
that  she  should  enjoy  being  lazy  if  she  did 
not  know  that  thousands  were  sweating  for 
their  bread.  That  knowledge  gave  a  sweet- 
ness to  her  indolence,  she  asserted. 


I20  DALLY 

Mrs.  Jacobs  looked  up  at  her  shrewdly, 
the  squint  in  her  eye  more  than  usually  no- 
ticeable. 

"  You  c'n  talk  like  that  as  much  as  you 
want  to,  to  me,"  she  said,  "  but  you  needn't 
let  Dally  hear  you.  It's  mighty  poor  stuff 
for  a  grown  woman  to  say." 

To  this-Mrs.  Lander  had  replied  that  she 
was  not  going  to  corrupt  Dally  in  any  way. 
She  added  that  the  child  now  believed  that 
she,  Mrs.  Lander,  was  a  kind  of  angel,  and 
she  did  not  wish  to  undeceive  her. 

It  was  at  this  point  in  the  conversation 
that  Mrs.  Jacobs  said  she  was  afraid  Dally 
was  growing  up. 

"  She  may  have  been  older  than  you 
thought  when  you  found  her  down  South," 
she  said.  "You  called  her  fourteen,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  sleepily.  "If 
you  want  my  honest  opinion,  Mrs.  Jacobs,  I 
think  it  aged  her  in  some  way  having  that 
struggle  to  make  up  her  mind  to  ask  Mrs. 
Winslovv's  pardon.  It  was  a  wrench." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  dropped  her  braid  and  clasped 
her  hands  over  her  knee. 

"  I  advised  her  for  her  good,"  she  remarked, 


DALLY  121 

earnestly.  "  I  couldn't  see  no  other  way. 
She'd  done  wrong,  you  know." 

"  Yes ;  but  if  her  confession  had  been  re- 
ceived in  the  right  spirit,  the  effect  would 
have  been  so  different.  It  was  unfortunate 
that  that  woman  could  be  such  a  —  such  a 
devil." 

The  sentence  was  finished  more  softly  than 
her  other  words  had  been  spoken. 

"We  can't  help  folks  bein'  devils,"  said 
Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"  No  ;  but  we  can  refrain  from  abasing  our- 
selves to  them." 

The  widow  clasped  her  hands  still  more 
tightly  on  her  knee.  Her  face  was  more  and 
more  overcast.  She  usually  knew  decidedly 
what  she  thought,  but  in  regard  to  Dally  her 
anxiety  made  her  sometimes  almost  vacil- 
lating. 

"You  think  I  done  wrong?"  she  asked. 

"  I  think  you  were  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Wins- 
low's  committing  the  sin  of  not  forgiving." 

"  I  tell  you  I'm  not  goin'  to  saddle  myself 
with  her  sins,"  energetically  exclaimed  the 
widow.  "  She  may  take  care  of  herself." 

"  She  will.     Let  her  alone  for  that." 

Mrs.  Lander  closed  her  eyes  as  if  for  a  nap. 


122  DALLY 

But  her  companion  knew  she  was  not  asleep, 
and  had  no  compunction  in  speaking  again, 
after  a  silence. 

"  It's  Dally  I'm  thinkin'  about.  She's 
grown  like  a  weed  lately.  I  do  hope  I  ain't 
got  to  put  long  clo'es  onto  her.  'N'  she 
seems  kinder  more  mature  like." 

"  If  she  lives  she  will  be  obliged  to  get  kind 
of  mature.  It's  the  penalty  we  pay  to  the 
years,"  came  from  the  long  chair. 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  I  sh'll  bring  her  up  right!" 
cried  Mrs.  Jacobs,  in  an  undertone,  as  if  to 
herself. 

"What  if  you  should  shift  the  responsibil- 
ity to  me?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lander. 

"What?" 

Mrs.  Jacobs  rose  suddenly,  letting  her  scis- 
sors fall  with  a  clatter. 

The  other  woman  opened  her  eyes,  and 
looked  with  slow  intentness  at  her  compan- 
ion. As  for  Mrs.  Jacobs,  she  felt  as  if  she 
had  been  struck.  She  had  never  thought  of 
this.  She  believed  she  knew  Mrs.  Lander 
well  enough  to  be  convinced  that  she  would 
not  want  the  trouble  of  Dally. 

"  You  look  as  if  I  were  a  tiger,  threatening 
to  devour  the  child,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  now 


DALLY  123 

waving  an  old-fashioned  feather  fan  that  had 
lain  in  her  lap. 

There  was  no  reply.  The  widow  was  fright- 
ened at  the  bare  thought  of  life  without  Dal- 
ly. Why,  Dally  had  become  what  seemed 
life  itself. 

She  tried  to  draw  herself  up  with  the  ques- 
tion, sharply  asked  of  herself,  "  Is  it  for  her 
good  ?  Not  for  outward  good,  but  for  the 
soul,  the  individual,  everlasting  soul?" 

But  if  Mrs.  Lander  ever  wanted  her,  the  time 
had  not  yet  come  ;  at  least,  she  thought  not. 

"  Don't  get  excited,"  she  said,  soothingly. 
"  I  won't  take  her  now.  She  shall  be  a  still 
further  discipline  for  Mrs.  Winslow.  I  see 
you  are  attached  to  her." 

"  Attached  to  her  !"  repeated  Mrs.  Jacobs, 
almost  with  a  sob.  But  her  eyes  were  dry. 
Her  heart  was  burning.  How  foofish  she 
had  been,  after  all  these  years,  to  really  love 
anything ! 

"  Don't  suffer,','  gently  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lan- 
der. The  tone  was  as  if  she  had  recommend- 
ed her  friend  not  to  take  cold ;  but  the  look 
in  her  face  bore  a  very  different  interpreta- 
tion. She  sat  upright  in  her  chair,  and  put 
out  her  hand  to  touch  the  widow's  arm. 


124 


DALLY 


"  Are  you  sorry  I  sent  her  here  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  No,  no,"  was  the  reply.  Mrs.  Jacobs 
went  out  of  the  room.  She  mounted  the 
stairs  to  that  spare  chamber  where  she  was 
accustomed  to  go  when  she  wished  to  be  en- 
tirely undisturbed.  But,  with  her  hand  on 
the  door,  she  remembered  that  the  spare 
chamber  was  now  Mrs.  Lander's  room. 

She  stood  a  moment. 

"  'Tain't  no  use  thinkin',"  she  said,  in  a 
whisper.  "  I  know  Lowizy  Lander  like  a 
book ;  she's  soft,  'n'  she's  sweet,  'n'  she's 
generous,  'n'  you  can't  help  likin'  her;  but 
when  she  wants  her  own  way  she's  goin'  to 
have  it." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  went  resolutely  down -stairs 
again,  and,  still  with  that  air  of  resolution, 
she  began  picking  up  Baldwin  apples  to  dry 
— apples,  as  she  said,  were  "  skerce  "  this 
year,  and  she  must  make  the  most  of  them. 
She  and  all  of  the  folks  near  had  already  be- 
gun "  to  dry."  But  she  did  not  experience 
the  usual  pleasant  sense  of  thrift  because 
she  was  saving  something.  The  September 
sunshine  was  not  sunshine  to  her.  To  have 
Dally  taken  away  from  her — she  could  not 


DALLY  125 

bear  that.  She  looked  vacantly  at  the  Bald- 
wins ("  Baldins  "  she  called  them).  She  stood 
with  one  in  her  hand,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
bluish-red  flush  on  one  side  of  it.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  her  whole  body  was  suffering,  as 
well  as  her  mind.  She  kept  saying,  mechan- 
ically, but  noiselessly : 

"  When  Lowizy  Lander  wants  her  own 
way,  she's  goin'  to  have  it." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  rustle  in  the  weeds 
behind  her,  the  other  side  of  the  wall.  Some- 
thing sprang  over  and  began  tossing  up  the 
apples  and  running  after  them.  It  was  Dai- 
ly's puppy,  and  was  followed  almost  imme- 
diately by  Dally  herself,  who  came  running 
with  such  an  impetus  as  almost  to  fall  over 
the  apple  basket. 

She  had  the  skirt  of  her  tire  twisted  up 
and  held  tightly  in  one  hand.  As  soon  as 
she  could  she  opened  it,  and  revealed  a  quan- 
tity of  vivid  blue  "  dangleberries,"  the  last 
of  the  huckleberry  family  that  linger  in  the 
autumn  in  upland  pastures. 

"One  more  pie,  aunty!"  she  cried,  in  her 
joyous  young  voice.  "  And  only  think,  Sam 
picked,  too ;  he  picked  an'  et,  but  I  only  et 
thur  fust  two  or  three.  Why,  aunty,  what's 
thur  matter?" 


126  DALLY 

Dally  was  looking  with  instant  solicitude 
at  her  companion.  Sam,  the  puppy,  frisked 
and  wagged  unheeded.  Mrs.  Jacobs  obeyed 
her  first  impulse,  and  answered  promptly, 
"Nothin1." 

But  Dally  was  not  satisfied.  "  'Tain't  noth- 
in'  I've  done?"  she  questioned. 

"  Oh,  no."  Then  Mrs.  Jacobs  asked,  "  I 
s'pose  you've  ben  tollerble  happy  here,  ain't 
you,  Dally?" 

"Yo*  ain't  gwine  ter  send  me  away,  be 
yo'?"  in  quick  terror. 

The  free  hand  clung  to  the  woman's  skirts. 

"  I  never  sh'll  do  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs, with  what  seemed  unnecessary  fervor. 

Dally  was  so  relieved  that  she  could  now 
give  the  information  that  she  had  had  but 
two  trials  since  she  came  to  Ransom. 

"  If  I  had  my  way,"  responded  the  widow, 
"  you  never  should  have  a  trial  in  the  world." 

There  was  an  unusual  ring  in  the  voice 
which  greatly  impressed  the  girl.  She  felt 
as  if  something  were  going  to  happen. 

"  Yes'm,"  she  said,  seriously,  "  I've  had 
two,  'n'  I've  got  'um  now.  You  know  they 
tell  to  thur  prayer  meetin's  how  we  all  have 
our  burdens,  so  I  reckon  as  thur  Lord  'lows 


DALLY  127 

we've  gurt  ter  have  'um.  I'll  tell  yo'  mine. 
When  I  ain't  too  sleepy,  I  pray  'bout  'um. 
But  mostly  I'm  too  sleepy.  One  is  that  I 
ain't  gurt  Barker.  I  keeper  thinkin'  of  him 
down  thur  with  Old  Tid.  Yo'  don't  know 
Old  Tid.  She's  thur  wussest  critter  God  ever 
made ;  'thout  it's  Mrs.  Winslow.  Ef  Mrs. 
Winslow'd  ben  livin'  on  White  Crow,  I  reckon 
she'd  ben  kind  of  er  Old  Tid.  Such  er  word 
as  cuss  must  er  been  made  ter  call  such  folks 
by.  But  I  know  it's  wicked  ter  say  cuss,  'n' 
I  ain't  er  gwine  ter." 

Daily's  voice  paused  ;  she  stood  holding  up 
her  tire  of  dangleberries  with  one  hand,  while 
the  other  grasped  Mrs.  Jacobs's  skirt.  The 
girl  was  looking  intently  off  towards  the  hori- 
zon, where  a  few  low  hills  were  beginning  to 
glow  in  the  slanting  western  light. 

Her  face  was  not  so  childish  as  when  she 
came.  And  Mrs.  Jacobs  noticed  that  her 
frock  needed  another  tuck  let  out. 

"  And  what  else  plagues  you  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jacobs. 

Dally  looked  up  confidingly,  and  said, 
promptly : 

"  Mrs.  Winslow !" 

"  But  you  done  your  duty,  'n'  confessed,  'n' 


128  DALLY 

arsked  forgiveness,  'n'  she  forgave  you !"  re- 
turned the  other. 

"  She  said  she  forgive  me.  Bill  made  her. 
But  she  ain't  done  hit — she  ain't  done  hit," 
answered  Dally.  "  An'  oh,  aunty,  I  ain't  gurt 
over  havin'  ter  arsk  her.  It  was  so  awful ! 
It  hurt  so  !  An'  how  she  looked  at  me  !" 

Daily's  tanned  hand  left  its  hold  on  the 
skirt,  and  was  unconsciously  pressed  against 
her  bosom. 

The  elder  face  became  so  wrung  with 
unhappy  doubt  as  Mrs.  Jacobs  heard  these 
words,  and  the  tones  in  which  they  were  spo- 
ken, that  she  turned  quickly  away  lest  Dally 
should  see  it.  But  Dally  had  seen  it,  and 
hurried  to  say: 

"  I  'low  it  was  right  fur  me  to  do  hit,  aunty, 
'cos  yo'  said  so ;  an'  I'd  done  wuss  fur  yo', 
but— " 

The  girl  paused.  Mrs.  Lander  was  saun- 
tering across  the  yard  to  them.  Mrs.  Jacobs 
started,  and  said  it  was  high  time  she  made 
a  fire  for  tea.  She  took  off  Daily's  apron  of 
berries,  and  went  towards  the  house.  The  sun 
sank  behind  Bald  Hill,  and  twilight  seemed 
to  come  almost  immediately.  When  the  tea- 
kettle was  over  the  fresh  fire,  Mrs.  Jacobs  was 


DALLY 


129 


so  uneasy  that  she  went  out  again  into  the 
yard,  where  Mrs.  Lander  and  Dally  were  now 
leaning  against  the  fence,  with  Sam  capering 
'round  them. 

The  widow  could  hear  the  lady's  melodi- 
ous, leisurely  tones,  and  she  could  see  the 
turn  of  the  girl's  head  as  she  looked  up  at 
her.  There  was  nothing  in  Mrs.  Jacobs's 
manner,  as  she  approached  the  two,  which 
could  have  hinted  at  the  pang  in  her 
heart. 

Before  she  spoke,  the  puppy  ran  down 
the  road,  giving  short  barks  of  welcome,  and 
presently  two  figures  emerged  into  sight. 
Marietta  Winslow  cried  out  excitedly,  as 
she  skipped  forward: 

"  Oh,  Dally,  you  can't  never  guess  what 
Bill's  got  for  ye  !" 

The  tall  figure  of  young  Winslow  followed 
behind  his  sister.  He  held  an  unpainted  box 
under  his  arm,  and  in  the  box  was  heard  a 
scuttling  sound. 

"  Oh,  Dally !"  cried  Marietta  again,  "  I 
wanted  him  ter  give  it  ter  me,  but  he  said 
he'd  ben  tamin'  it  for  you  all  the  time  he's 
ben  in  Snapit." 

Bill  set  the  box  on  the  flat  top  of  the  fence. 
9 


130  DALLY 

It  was  then  seen  that  the  upper  part  and 
one  side  were  wire. 

"  It's  a  gray  squirrel !"  exclaimed  Dally, 
clasping  her  hands  as  she  stood  up  tall  to 
look  into  the  box. 

Bill  nodded.  He  was  looking  at  Dally, 
and  Mrs.  Lander  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  were  look- 
ing at  him  ;  the  same  expression  was  on  each 
of  their  faces. 

The  young  fellow  seemed  to  the  women 
to  have  grown  more  manly  since  his  visit 
away  from  home  ;  taller  and  more  decisive, 
the  boyish  face  having  settled  into  more 
positive  lines. 

"  I  can  tame  er  squirrel,"  said  Dally,  rais- 
ing her  eyes  to  the  boy ;  "  I  c'n  tame  er  heap 
er  wild  things — I  useter,  on  White  Crow." 
Her  face  darkened  as  she  added,  "  but  Ole 
Tid  mostly  killed  um  when  she  wor  drunk." 

These  last  words  reminded  her  of  the 
pledge  she  had  taken,  and  she  remarked 
that  she  "warn't  gwine  ter  drink  no  more 
liquor  of  any  kind." 

"  Dally !"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs.  Mrs.  Lander 
laughed  slightly,  and  put  her  hand  on  Dai- 
ly's shoulder. 

Marietta  stared.      She   had  heard   about 


DALLY  131 

Daily's  drinking  all  the  Widder  'Bijah's  liq- 
uor; but  it  appeared  something  dreadful  to 
her  to  hear  Dally  refer  to  the  fact. 

Bill  broke  the  silence  by  saying  that  he 
would  put  the  cage  wherever  Dally  liked. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  said  she  would  be  pleased 
to  have  both  the  children  come  in,  if  their 
mother  hadn't  no  objections  to  their  visiting 
Dally. 

She  pronounced  these  words  proudly,  as  if 
it  mattered  little  to  her  even  though  Mrs. 
Winslow  had  such  objections. 

Bill  stood  up  very  straight  and  tall,  and  his 
sister  and  Dally  fixed  their  eyes  on  him  in 
undisguised  admiration. 

"  My  mother  hasn't  the  slightest  objec- 
tions," he  said;  "she  knows  Met  and  I  were 
coming  here." 

"William,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Lander,  in  her  most  winning  voice.  She  put 
out  a  very  white  hand  to  the  boy,  who  blushed 
deeply  as  he  took  it  and  held  it  a  minute.  He 
knew  all  she  meant  by  her  words.  He  wished 
he  might  kiss  the  hand  that  was  so  warm 
and  soft  and  flattering.  But  he  did  not 
quite  know  how  to  do  that.  He  sighed  as 
he  dropped  it. 


132 


DALLY 


He  lifted  the  cage  again,  and  the  group 
started  to  the  house. 

Dally,  whose  senses  were  almost  as  acute 
as  those  of  the  animals  on  her  native  moun- 
tains, paused  in  her  walk  behind  the  others 
along  the  path. 

"  I  hear  steps,"  she  said.  The  rest  went 
on,  expecting  her  to  follow.  At  the  door 
Bill  stopped  and  then  turned  back,  standing 
a  few  feet  from  the  girl,  watching  her. 

l<  What  did  you  think  you  heard?"  he  asked. 

She  raised  her  hand.  He  saw  the  glow 
of  her  eyes  in  the  semi-darkness. 

"  Steps !"  she  replied,  in  a  whisper. 

A  short  figure  became  visible  close  by  the 
gate.  It  seemed  to  hesitate,  though  it  did 
not  stop. 

Dally  wavered  an  instant  as  she  looked  at 
it.  Then  she  cried  out,  in  a  shrill,  strong 
voice,  "  Barker !" 


XI 

MR.  DODSON  GIVES  BARKER  A  LIFT 

!R.  DODSON  usually  made  it  a  point 
to  reach  the  station  in  Farnham  about 
half  an  hour  before  the  arrival  of  the 
train  he  was  to  meet.  He  liked  to  "  stand 
round  "  on  the  platform  and  watch  the  sta- 
tion-agent roll  about  the  two  or  three  boxes 
and  casks  that  were  generally  there,  and  that 
seemed  to  be  the  identical  boxes  and  casks 
that  had  always  been  there.  There  never 
were  any  more,  and  apparently  never  any 
less.  It  was  almost  an  excitement  to  Mr. 
Dodson  to  see  that  track  stretching  away 
over  the  solitary  country,  and  to  see  those 
casks,  and  he  was  not  going  to  give  up  that 
excitement,  even  though  passengers  whom 
he  brought  to  go  to  Providence  in  this  train 
from  Boston,  which  he  met,  strongly  object- 
ed to  being  obliged  to  start  so  early  and 
spend  so  much  time  in  that  station. 

But  it  was  of  no  use  remonstrating.     Mr. 


134  DALLY 

Dodson  used  to  listen  to  such  remonstrances, 
then  tilt  his  tall  hat  a  little  farther  back,  and 
say  he  "  guessed  he  sh'd  have  ter  start  'bout 
the  same  time  he'd  ben  startin'." 

As  his  horse  went  so  slowly,  and  he  stopped 
so  long  in  Farnham,  indulging  in  his  favorite 
dissipation  of  staring  at  freight,  it  came  to 
pass  that  Mr.  Dodson  did  not  have  time  to 
do  anything  else  all  day,  but  to  go  in  the  morn- 
ing and  again  at  night.  And  this  arrange- 
ment suited  him  ;  he  was  perfectly  happy  in 
it,  and  often  told  people  he  didn't  know  what 
he  should  do  if  he  didn't  keep  so  busy  all  the 
time ;  he  reckoned  if  he  were  not  so  busy 
that  his  mind  would  be  too  much  for  him. 
In  what  way  his  mind  was  going  to  get  the 
better  of  him  he  did  not  state.  The  Dod- 
son place  had  been  "  nothin'  but  wrack  V 
ruin  "  for  some  years.  Mrs.  Dodson,  a  pale, 
dejected -looking  woman,  who  was  always 
patching  her  husband's  flannel  shirts,  was 
continually  making  the  statement  that  "  she 
s'posed  Josephus  would  er  done  something 
ter  the  farm,  but  he  was  so  awful  busy  he 
couldn't ;  and  that's  all  there  was  about  it ; 
Josephus  could  not."  It  was  thus  that  Jo- 
sephus continued  year  after  year  to  drive 


DALLY  135 

the  "  deepo'  wagon  ;"  and  year  after  year  his 
mind  did  not  get  the  better  of  him. 

The  fact  that  his  wife  had  alt  and  more 
than  she  could  do  to  take  care  of  the  hens 
and  cows  and  the  housework  may  be  the 
reason  why  she  never  meddled  in  "  public 
matters."  Mr.  Dodson,  as  we  have  said, 
could  not  "abide  women"  who  had  any- 
thing to  do  in  "  public  matters."  He  had 
a  niece,  resident  in  an  adjoining  town,  who 
was  a  member  of  the  school  committee  there. 
Mr.  Dodson  often  said  if  he  "  only  wasn't  so 
busy  he  should  of  ridden  over  'n'  seen  about 
it."  But  as  he  never  found  time  to  ride  over 
and  see  about  it,  the  niece  remained  on  the 
school  board.  Still,  Josephus  felt  it  a  dis- 
grace to  the  family.  He  was  speaking  very 
feelingly  of  this  disgrace  to  a  passenger  who 
wanted  to  ride  from  Snapit  to  Ransom  Cen- 
tre. He  sometimes  picked  up  a  person  to 
take  for  a  mile  or  two,  and  always  charged 
fifteen  cents,  if  only  for  a  dozen  rods.  He 
explained  that  it  was  "  consid'able  trouble 
ter  stop,  'n'  'twas  more  for  stoppin'  than  for 
goin'  that  he  had  to  charge." 

"  There  seems  to  be  er  heap,  or  somethin', 
in  the  road  there,"  interrupted  this  passen- 


I36  DALLY 

ger  at  the  third  recital  of  the  Dodson  family 
disgrace. 

Mr.  Dodson  was  displeased  to  be  inter- 
rupted. He  clucked  to  his  horse,  and  said, 
slightingly,  that  he  "  guessed  it  wa'n't  noth- 
in'  more'n  bushes." 

But  it  was  not  bushes.  It  was  a  boy  asleep 
in  a  huddle,  like  an  animal.  In  fact,  it  was 
Barker.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Dally.  He 
had  come  up  in  freight  cars.  He  had  suf- 
fered a  good  deal ;  but  he  was  used  to  suf- 
fering. He  had  not  much  mind,  and  per- 
haps that  was  fortunate,  for  thus  he  did  not 
perceive  the  vastness  and  number  of  the 
difficulties  in  his  way.  He  had  no  partic- 
ular morals,  and  could  not  be  restrained 
by  conscientious  scruples  from  anything  he 
wished  to  do,  or  from  pilfering  any  kind 
of  goods  or  eatables  that  were  within 
reach.  He  did  not  starve,  for  he  could 
usually  find  the  dinner-pail  of  some  freight- 
man. 

To  begin  with,  he  was  started  on  his  way 
by  some  person's  paying  his  fare  as  far  as 
Richmond.  But  he  was  such  a  wretch  to 
look  at  and  to  smell  that  a  fastidious  con- 
ductor put  him  in  a  freight  train,  with  the 


DALLY  137 

remark  that  it  wasn't  his  business  to  take 
vermin  over  the  country. 

From  the  moment  of  his  running  from 
Ole  Tid  to  Asheville,  in  North  Carolina,  his 
whole  mind  had  been  bent  on  keeping  a  scrap 
of  paper  which  Dally  had  sent  to  him,  by 
forwarding  it  by  mail  to  a  woman  who  lived 
near  White  Crow  Mounting.  This  woman 
could  read ;  she  sometimes  heard  from  the 
post-office  nearest  White  Crow,  for  some- 
times she  rode  on  her  old  horse  over  the 
eight  miles  of  red  "  State  road"  between  her 
home  and  the  office.  .  And  she  had  two  or 
three  times  been  kind  to  the  dirty,  ragged 
girl  who  was  then  one  of  "  Ole  Tid's  .brats." 

It  was,  therefore,  this  woman  to  whom 
Dally,  the  moment  she  had  learned  how  to 
do  it,  had  sent  a  laboriously  printed  note  as 
follows : 

"I  pray  too  God  yole  giv  this  papir  to  Barker. 
It  is  whar  i  amm.  He  must  kepe  hit,  furr  it  wil  tote 
him  to  me." 

The  paper  bore,  in  Daily's  print,  these 
words : 

"  Thurr  wiclder  bijah  Jacobs  ransom  massychoo- 
sits  nigh  ter  borston." 


138  DALLY 

That  kind-hearted  person,  who  had  sent 
Barker  as  far  as  Richmond,  had  deciphered 
this  document,  and  had  pinned  on  to  the 
boy's  jacket  a  correct  and  plain  translation. 

As  Mr.  Dodson,  who  naturally  had  plenty 
of  time,  bent  over  the  sleeping  Barker,  the 
first  thing  he  saw  was  the  card  fastened  to 
him.  He  read  it.  He  read  it  again. 

"  Land  o'  liberty !"  he  exclaimed,  with 
something  like  animation.  "If  this  ain't 
another  critter  for  the  Widder  'Bijah !  She 
simps  to  be  sort  of  runnin'  to  them  kind. 
He's  dressed  well  enough,  too.  I  swan,  I'm 
beat !  Do  you  s'pose  she  sent  for  him?" 

"  He's  dressed  well  enough,  that's  a  fact — 
better'n  my  boy  dresses,"  remarked  the  pas- 
senger. 

It  was  true  that  the  boy  had  on  a  gray 
knickerbocker  suit.  It  was  the  gift  of  Miss 
Pelham,  in  the  next  town.  She  had  found 
him  in  the  freight-car,  where  she  had  been 
looking  for  some  goods.  She  had  kept  him 
overnight.  He  had  left  her  house  early  that 
morning  to  walk  to  that  place  where  Dally 
was.  But  he  had  wandered  hours  over  wrong 
roads,  and  had  finally  lain  down  in  the  sun- 
light and  gone  to  sleep. 


DALLY 


139 


Mr.  Dodson  touched  the  boy  with  his 
foot. 

"  P'raps  I'll  give  him  a  lift,  if  he's  goin' 
my  way,"  he  said. 

"  I  guess  he  ain't  got  no  fifteen  cents," 
said  the  passenger. 

Mr.  Dodson  did  not  reply.  He  had  an 
idea.  If  he  spoke  directly  he  was  afraid 
he  might  lose  the  idea. 

Barker  slept  very  heavily ;  Mr.  Dodson 
touched  him  more  decidedly  with  his  boot, 
and  continued  to  touch  him  until  the  boy 
moved,  opened  his  eyes,  and  drawled, 

"Be  Dally  thur?" 

"  No,  she  ain't  here,"  was  the  answer,  "  but 
I'm  goin'  within  a  mild  of  her,  'n'  I'll  take 
ye.  Git  in." 

Barker  rose  slowly.  Mr.  Dodson  brought 
his  horse  back  from  among  the  golden-rod  at 
the  roadside,  where  it  was  browsing. 

The  boy  stood  in  a  kind  of  crouching  po- 
sition. He  did  not  stir  when  horse  and  wagon 
were  again  in  the  middle  of  the  highway. 

"  Get  in,"  said  Mr.  Dodson. 

"  Thur?"  asked  Barker. 

The  passenger,  who  was  a  spare,  wiry  man 
of  quick  motions,  took  hold  of  the  boy's  arm 


140 


DALLY 


impatiently  and  thrust  him  forward,  asking 
whether  he  could  move  or  not. 

Something  inside  of  Barker's  tightly  but- 
toned jacket  made  a  chinking  sound  as  he 
climbed  into  the  wagon. 

"  Mebby  the  chap  is  stuffed  full  of  silver 
dollars,"  said  the  man,  with  a  laugh ;  "  he 
climbs  as  if  he  was." 

Not  only  did  Barker  chink,  but  the  front 
of  his  jacket  bulged  out.  He  took  no  notice 
of  what  was  said,  but  lapsed,  rather  than  sat, 
down  on  the  seat. 

Two  or  three  times  one  of  the  men  put  a 
question  to  him,  but  he  made  no  reply  be- 
yond   an    inarticulate    sound.     He    seemed 
almost  like   an    inert   mass.     Still  his  eyes 
sometimes  looked  out  on  the  fast  darkening 
landscape.     Once,  after  such  a  look,  his  gaze 
came  round  to  Mr.  Dodson,  and  he  asked : 
"Ain't  you-uns  gurt  no  mountings?" 
"We  git  'long  well  enough  'thout  'um," 
answered  the  driver,  cheerfully.    "  If  we  don't 
have  'um,  we  don't  have  ter  climb  'um." 
Barker  looked  out  again.     Then  he  said : 
"  I  reckon  I  should  want  mountings." 
The  passenger  remarked  that  he  was  "  sorry 
they  couldn't  'commydate  him." 


DALLY  I41 

Very  soon  after  this  access  of  conversation 
the  spare  man  left  and  walked  briskly  up  a 
lane  in  the  gathering  twilight. 

When  he  was  alone  with  the  boy,  Mr. 
Dodson  inquired  if  the  Widder  'Bijah  had 
sent  for  him. 

"  Sont  fur  me  ?"  repeated  Barker,  vaguely. 

"  Yes,  sent  for  you  ?" 

"  I  d'know,"  said  Barker.  "  She  mought 
er  sont,  but  I  d'know." 

"Goodness!"  cried  Mr.  Dodson,  "I  sh'd 
think  you'd  know  that." 

Barker  said  nothing. 

"  Be  you  any  relation  to  that  gal  with  the 
widder?"  he  asked. 

"  Relation  ?"  repeated  the  boy,  his  eyes 
groping  over  Mr.  Dodson's  face. 

"  Mercy  !  Don't  you  know  what  relation 
means?" 

Barker  made  no  attempt  at  a  reply.  Mr. 
Dodson  sat  in  puzzled  silence,  expectorating 
a  good  deal.  He  wondered  if  his  idea  would 
answer,  after  all. 

After  a  while  he  tried  another  experiment. 

"  I  s'pose,  now,  you  c'n  milk  cows  first- 
rate?" 

"  I  hev  milked  strays  as  curm  urp  the 
mounting." 


142 


DALLY 


Mr.  Dodson  felt  encouraged. 

"  'N'  taken  care  er  hens,  too  ?"  he  said, 
feeling  sure  that  the  boy  must  have  meant 
cows  when  he  used  the  word  "  strays." 

Barker  shook  his  head.  It  was  too  much 
effort  for  him  to  reply.  He  wished  the  man 
would  be  quiet.  There  was  no  use  in  talk- 
ing. 

Mr.  Dodson  was  discouraged  now,  and  did 
not  speak  again  until  he  pulled  in  his  horse 
at  a  corner,  and  remarked  that  he  "s'posed 
his  companion  hadn't  got  fifteen  cents 
about  him."  Barker  again  shook  his  head ; 
.  .  .  the  man  explained  that  fifteen  cents 
was  his  usual  charge  for  picking  up  any- 
body between  Farnham  and  Ransom.  If 
Barker  heard  this  explanation  he  made  no 
sign  of  having  heard  it.  He  remained  in 
his  seat  until  he  was  told  that  the  reason 
they  were  stopping  was  because  this  was  the 
place  for  him  "  to  git  out." 

Barker  got  out.  When  he  was  on  his  feet 
he  asked : 

"Whar'shit  at?" 

"Jew  mean  the  widder's?" 

"  Thur  place  on  this  " — the  boy  put  his 
hand  on  the  paper  on  his  jacket. 


DALLY  143 

Mr.  Dodson  leaned  forward,  and  told  Bar- 
ker that  if  he  "wasn't  a  born  idjit  he  could 
find  it  plain  enough — 'bout  a  mild,  straight 
down  that  road." 

Barker  turned  the  corner  without  a  word, 
in  the  direction  the  man  had  pointed,  and 
went  along  into  the  darkness.  He  walked 
with  a  peculiar  gait,  lifting  his  legs  as  if  he 
were  climbing  an  ascent,  and  hardly  knew 
how  to  walk  on  level  ground. 

Mr.  Dodson  sat  with  his  arms  on  his  knees, 
watching  the  awkward  figure  melt  into  the 
night.  At  last  he  gathered  up  the  reins, 
and  said  aloud,  with  a  great  deal  of  em- 
phasis : 

"  I  declare !"  and  clucked  to  his  horse. 
After  an  interval  he  said,  again  aloud,  "  I 
guess  I'll  speak  to  Mis'  Dodson  about  it." 

He  always  spoke  of  his  wife  as  "  Mis'  Dod- 
son," evidently  thinking  that  the  dignity  of 
the  position  given  her  by  her  marriage  with 
him  demanded  such  a  title,  even  in  the  fa- 
miliarity of  their  home. 

Barker  walked  on,  his  hands  hanging  down, 
his  cap  far  back  on  his  head.  He  kept  stum- 
bling. He  thought  he  stumbled  because  the 
ground  was  level.  He  had  not  known  until 


144  DALLY 

he  left  Asheville  that  there  were  places  in 
the  world  without  mountains. 

His  sleep  had  revived  him  somewhat,  but 
his  mind  was  even  less  clear  than  usual,  for 
he  was  dazed  with  his  long  journey.  He 
did  not  stop  walking.  The  stars  came  out 
with  the  wonderful  brilliance  that  they  have 
in  September.  The  crickets  were  making  a 
great  deal  of  noise,  and  the  katydids  here 
and  there  uttered  their  assertion  and  denial. 
The  boy,  however,  did  not  think  of  the  stars, 
or  the  crickets,  or  .the  katydids.  Could  his 
face  have  been  seen,  one  would  have  said 
that  he  did  not  think  of  anything. 

Mr.  Dodson  had  told  him  that  the  place 
on  the  card  fastened  to  his  jacket  was  "  about 
a  mild."  Barker  had  no  idea  how  far  that 
was.  He  passed  three  farm-houses,  removed 
somewhat  from  each  other ;  he  stopped  at 
each  one  and  prowled  until  a  man  or  boy, 
coming  from  the  house  to  go  to  the  barn  for 
"chores,"  found  him.  By  the  light  of  the 
lanterns  they  carried  they  read  the  card,  and 
told  him  to  go  straight  on.  They  asked  a 
great  many  questions,  but  he  did  not  an- 
swer any  of  them. 

The  universal  decision  among  them  was 


DALLY  145 

that  "  if  the  Widder  'Bijah  took  him,  she'd 
have  her  hands  fuller  than  they'd  ever  ben 
yet." 

At  one  of  the  houses  a  dog  bounced  out 
growling  at  him  ;  the  animal  evidently  in- 
tended to  seize  the  boy  by  the  ankle  ;  but  as 
Barker  stood  perfectly  still,  the  dog  was  so 
astonished  that  he  relinquished  the  intention, 
and  merely  remained  on  guard,  muttering  in 
his  throat  until  his  master  came  out  to  see 
what  was  the  matter. 

Thus,  at  last,  Barker  came  to  the  little  gate 
where  Dally  had  stood  some  months  before. 
He  hesitated ;  he  saw  a  figure  on  the  path 
near  the  door.  He  wondered  when  he  should 
come  to  the  right  house,  and  whether  the 
next  dog  would  really  bite  him. 

The  figure  in  the  path  came  nearer  to  him. 
The  brilliant  starlight  shone  on  the  faces  of 
both.  The  boy  did  not  move  or  speak,  but 
he  knew  her.  It  was  Dally  who  cried  out, 
"Barker!" 
10 


XII 

WHAT  BARKER  BROUGHT  TO  DALLY 

iRS.  JACOBS,  mixing  a  "cushion 
cake  "  for  her  belated  supper,  heard 
Daily's  excited  cry  of  recognition, 
and  ran  through  the  sitting-room  to  the 
front  door,  scattering  flour  from  her  hands 
as  she  went. 

Mrs.  Lander,  with  a  white  shawl  over  her 
shoulders,  was  leaning  against  one  side  of 
the  door.  Bill  Winslow's  tall,  slim  figure 
was  seen  in  the  path  near  the  gate,  and  just 
outside  the  gate  Dally  was  standing,  grasp- 
ing Barker  by  the  shoulders. 

"  Has  anything  happened,"  asked  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs, peering  out  into  the  darkness,  her  eyes 
blinded  by  just  coming  from  the  kitchen 
lamp.  "  Where's  Dally?" 

"  I  suspect  you  have  a  guest,  Mrs.  Jacobs," 
Mrs.  Lander's  somewhat  mocking  voice  re- 
plied. "  I  suspect  Barker  has  arrived." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  piped  up  an  eager  tone  from 


DALLY  147 

the  denser  gloom  under  the  lilac,  "  she  called 
him  Barker.  It's  him." 

It  was  Marietta  who  spoke.  She  longed 
to  rush  out  where  Dally  was,  but  a  feeling 
that  she  might  intrude  restrained  her ;  and 
she  had  gone  under  the  lilac,  but  had  taken 
in  every  smallest  detail  of  this  meeting.  She 
Considered  that  she  was  highly  favored  in 
that  she  happened  to  be  present.  She  won- 
dered what  Bill  thought.  Since  Bill  had 
been  to  High  School  and  begun  to  use  his 
verbs  and  other  parts  of  speech  with  more 
correctness,  and  also  talked  of  going  to  col- 
lege, Marietta  had  accesses  of  something  like 
awe  in  her  thoughts  of  her  brother. 

If  she  could  find  out  what  Bill  thought 
about  this  new-comer,  it  would  settle  things 
a  good  deal  in  her  mind. 

She  told  herself  she  would  know  all  about 
it  on  their  walk  home.  So  she  tried  to  wait, 
meanwhile  straining  her  eyes  and  ears  from 
her  retreat. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  returned  immediately  to  the 
kitchen,  and  brought  back  the  lamp,  which 
she  held  up  over  her  head,  trying  to  see  the 
group  by  the  gate. 

"  If  anybody's  come,  Dally,"  she  called  out, 


148  DALLY 

with  forced  cheerfulness,  "  bring  'em  right 
in." 

The  rays  of  the  lamp  fell  on  the  girl  and 
boy  as  they  approached  slowly  up  the  path, 
Dally  leading  him,  with  a  hand  gripped  tight- 
ly upon  his  sleeve. 

Bill  Winslow  moved  out  of  the  way  to  let 
them  pass.  He  was  looking  at  Dally,  seeing 
the  absolute  radiance  of  her  face.  She  did 
not  seem  to  see  him,  but  went  on,  her  gaze 
on  the  woman  who  stood  with  the  lamp,  and 
who  had  been,  as  the  child  so  often  thought, 
"  heavenly  kind  "  to  her. 

Mrs.  Lander  pulled  her  gown  aside  as  Bar- 
ker came  through  the  doorway.  Her  face 
expressed  no  feeling  towards  the  boy,  but 
she  glanced  with  softening  eyes  at  Dally,  who 
was  following  the  widow  into  the  kitchen. 

Outside,  Marietta  made  a  movement  to 
press  forward  into  the  house,  but  Bill  said, 
gruffly : 

"  Come  along,  Met ;  we'll  go  home,"  and 
the  two  walked  silently  along  the  vocal  and 
odorous  country  road.  Somehow  Marietta 
could  not  ask  her  brother  the  questions  she 
had  intended. 

When  they  were  near  their  home  the  girl 


DALLY 


149 


said,  timidly,  that  she  hoped  "  mar  wouldn't 
begin  to  fling  'cause  Barker  'd  come." 

"  I'll  fix  mar,"  was  the  irreverent  response. 

In  the  cosey  Jacobs  kitchen  Dally,  stand- 
ing beside  the  strange  boy  and  looking  with 
confident  eyes  at  Mrs.  Jacobs,  said  : 

"Aunty,  this"  is  Barker." 

Barker  raised  heavy  eyelids,  and  directed 
dull  eyes  at  Mrs.  Jacobs,  who  appeared  to 
have,  for  an  instant,  a  little  difficulty  in  find- 
ing her  voice. 

When  it  did  come,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts, 
it  was  a  trifle  dry  and  hard. 

"  He  must  be  mighty  hungry  'n'  tired. 
Let  him  set  right  down  in  that  rocker  while 
I  finish  gittin'  supper." 

The  boy  sat  down  in  the  rocker,  and  Dally 
stood  beside  him.  Mrs.  Lander  placed  herself 
in  another  chair,  and  contemplated  the  two. 

She  had  no  hesitation  in  telling  herself  that 
that  lump  of  coarse  clay  made  her  sick.  She 
decided  that  it  was  not  because  Barker's  face 
was  so  ugly  to  look  at.  It  was  his  personal- 
ity, his  individuality. 

What  had  the  brute  come  for?  And  now 
he  had  come,  why  wasn't  he  glad  to  see  Dal- 
ly ?  He  sat  there,  heavy,  leaden. 


150 


DALLY 


The  women,  the  one  who  watched  him  and 
the  one  who  was  preparing  his  supper,  knew 
that  the  room  was  no  longer  cosey.  Its 
cheery,  homelike  feeling  was  gone. 

Did  Dally  know  it?  Mrs.  Jacobs,  fighting 
hard  against  what  might  be  an  injustice  to 
the  boy,  looked  at  the  girl.  Thus  looking, 
her  eyes  caught  Daily's  glance,  full,  trusting. 
But  as  the  young  gaze  dwelt  for  an  instant 
on  the  careworn  face,  a  troubled  expression 
came  to  it. 

Was  it  possible  that  any  one  was  not  glad 
to  see  Barker? 

The  girl  turned  towards  Mrs.  Lander,  and 
that  lady  gave  her  a  very  sweet  but  rather 
impersonal  smile,  which  failed  to  cheer  her  or 
to  clear  up  matters  any. 

Was  there  any  defiance  in  the  cloud  that 
came  on  Daily's  face?  She  turned  back  to 
the  boy,  whose  head  hung  forward,  as  if  he 
were  asleep.  Only  Dally,  who  was  familiar 
with  his  ways,  knew  he  was  not  asleep. 

"  I  wish  you'd  set  the  table,  Dally,"  called 
out  Mrs.  Jacobs  from  the  buttery.  The  girl 
started  alertly  forward,  and  gladly  began  her 
work.  Mrs.  Lander,  tired  of  seeing  that  creat- 
ure in  the  large  chair,  sauntered  out  into  the 


DALLY  I5I 

yard,  and  strolled  about  until  she  was  called 
to  supper.  She  hesitated  when  she  saw  that 
the  boy  had  already  been  placed  at  the  table. 
There  was  haughtiness  in  the  way  she  said 
that  she  could  wait,  and  take  her  supper  later. 

The  Widder  'Bijah  had  had  too  many  poor- 
house  people  as  her  guests  to  shrink  from  this 
stranger,  who,  thanks  to  the  kind  offices  of 
Miss  Pelham  the  night  before,  was  not  nearly 
so  dirty  as  he  might  have  been.  After  Dally 
had  guided  him  to  the  sink  and  made  him 
wash  face  and  hands,  he  was  respectable,  so 
far  as  cleanliness  went.  He  ate  ravenously, 
and  like  an  animal. 

Mrs.  Jacobs,  during  the  process,  could  only 
tell  herself  that  she  wished  she  was  out  on 
the  stoop  with  Mrs.  Lander.  But  she  sat  at 
her  post,  and  kept  giving  great  pieces  of  hot 
cake  to  the  boy,  and  filling  his  cup  with  well- 
sweetened  tea.  As  for  Dally,  she  did  not 
even  pretend  to  eat.  The  mingling  of  joy 
and  anxiety  made  her  eyes  dilate  and  her 
face  pale. 

Barker  did  not  change  much  under  the  in- 
fluence of  food  and  drink.  The  doughy,  un- 
derdone aspect  of  his  face  was,  possibly,  a 
trifle  less  pronounced. 


152  DALLY 

It  was  warm  in  the  little  kitchen.  The 
atmosphere  and  the  hot  tea  made  the  moist- 
ure stand  on  Barker's  forehead  and  cheeks. 

"Why  don't  you  unbutton  your  jacket?" 
asked  Mrs.  Jacobs.  "You'd  be  more  com- 
fortable." 

The  boy  made  an  inarticulate  sound,  but 
no  movement  to  do  as  Mrs.  Jacobs  had  sug- 
gested. Dally  slipped  round  from  her  seat 
to  his  side  and  put  her  hand  on  the  top  but- 
ton. He  pushed  the  hand  down  roughly, 
but  still  slowly.  He  was  slow  about  every- 
thing. 

"They'll  drap  out  if  yo'  do  hit,"  he  said. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  widow  kept 
her  seat.  She  conquered  an  almost  irresisti- 
ble inclination  to  go  and  shake  the  boy  furi- 
ously. 

"  What'll  drop  out  ?"  asked  Dally,  standing 
back  from  his  chair  and  putting  her  hands 
behind  her  in  a  way  she  had. 

"Them." 

"Can't  you  tell?"  she  asked  again. 

He  grunted. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Lander  came  in,  and 
Mrs.  Jacobs  handed  her  a  cup  of  tea,  which 
she  sipped  leaning  on  her  empty  chair. 


DALLY  153 

Dally  turned  towards  the  widow.  "  Aunty," 
she  said,  "  he  must  be  awful  tired." 

The  girl  was  trying  to  understand  her  own 
feelings.  She  had  known  through  all  their 
childhood  that  Barker  was  not  like  her.  But 
on  White  Crow  it  had  all  been  so  different. 
Living  there  with  Ole  Tid,  Barker's  face  and 
manner  and  soul  had  not  contrasted  unfavor- 
ably with  his  surroundings.  Now  Daily's 
confusion  became  more  and  more  painful. 
That  confusion  and  her  surprise  struggled 
with  a  sense  of  loyalty  and  made  her  heart 
ache  strangely.  She  did  not  in  the  least 
know  what  was  the  matter.  She  only  knew 
that  now,  when  Barker,  whom  she  had  so 
much  desired,  had  really  come,  she  was  poig- 
nantly unhappy.  She  did  not  understand. 
She  wanted  to  spring  like  a  tiger  at  Mrs. 
Lander,  who  had  calmly  refused  to  eat  with 
Barker.  But  even  in  that  feeling  was  a  dim 
sense  that  she  did  not  blame  Mrs.  Lander, 
or  any  one,  for  not  wishing  to  eat  with  him. 
It  was  a  shock  to  herself.  She  hated  to  see 
him  gobble  and  suck,  and  breathe  hard  over 
his  food  and-  drink. 

And  now,  what  horrible  thing  was  coming 
out  about  why  he  would  not  have  his  jacket 
unfastened  ? 


154  DALLY 

She  had  an  intuitive  sense  that  "Aunty" 
would  find  out  before  the  boy  was  allowed 
to  go  to  bed.  And  she  was  right. 

Mrs.  Jacobs's  suspicions  were  fully  aroused. 

After  the  supper  dishes  were  washed, 
during  which  process  the  new  guest  sat 
again  in  the  big  rocker,  and  Mrs.  Lander  ap- 
peared to  be  reading  a  magazine  at  a  lamp- 
stand,  the  widow  turned  towards  Barker  and 
said : 

"  If  you're  goin'  ter  stay  here,  I  guess 
you'll  have  to  tell  me  about  what  you've 
brought." 

Barker  moved  slightly,  but  did  not  speak. 
He  looked  at  Dally,  who  stood  near,  palpi- 
tating with  excitement.  The  muscles  of  his 
face  stirred  in  such  a  way  that  the  spectators 
almost  thought  he  smiled,  although  his  eyes 
did  not  change. 

"  Fur  her,"  he  said,  moving  his  head  tow- 
ards Dally. 

"  Something  you  brought  for  her?"  repeat- 
ed Mrs.  Jacobs,  cheerfully.  "  Well,  what  is 
it?" 

Mrs.  Lander  laid  down  her  magazine.  She 
supposed  such  creatures  were  necessary  in 
the  world. 


DALLY  155 

Barker's  stubby  hand  began  to  open  his 
jacket. 

"  I  gurt  um  fur  her,"  he  said.  "  I  'lowed 
she  war  fond  of  um.  Thur  wa'n't  nary  er 
thing  round,  an'  I  took  um  easy.  An'  I 
run." 

He  held  his  jacket  together  at  the  bot- 
tom, and  with  great  deliberation  removed, 
one  by  one,  eight  heavy  silver  tablespoons, 
three  teaspoons,  and  five  forks.  He  put 
them  on  the  wide  hearth  of  the  cookstove, 
near  which  he  stood. 

Mrs.  Lander  rose  and  came  forward.  One 
glance  at  this  silver  showed  that  it  was  of 
such  weight  and  such  workmanship  as  is 
found  only  in  the  homes  of  wealth. 

She  took  up  a  spoon.  "  You  have  excel- 
lent taste,  Barker,"  she  remarked,  as  she 
looked  at  it. 

Dally  turned  ferociously  towards  her.  But 
Mrs.  Lander  was  equal  to  this  phase  of  the 
girl.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  bear  to 
lose  that  fresh,  sweet  adoration  which  had 
been  offered  her.  She  clasped  Daily's  clenched 
hand ;  she  drew  her  to  her  in  spite  of  some 
resistance.  She  held  her  close  against  her 
side,  and  bent  over  her,  saying  tenderly  : 


156  DALLY 

"  Dear  child  !  Do  you  think  I  will  endure 
to  have  you  angry  with  me  ?  I  am  not  going 
to  have  anything,  not  even  Barker,  come  be- 
tween us." 

This  was  not  in  the  least  an  apology,  but 
Dally  thought  it  was.  And  older  people 
were  not  often  able  to  hold  out  against  a 
certain  cadence  in  Mrs.  Lander's  voice. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  gathered  the  silver  from 
the  stove-hearth,  and  was  putting  it  carefully 
in  a  fine  napkin. 

"  I  see  it  is  marked  '  Pelham ',"  said  Mrs. 
Lander,  still  keeping  Dally  close  to  her,  per- 
haps knowing  what  power  contact  with  her 
had  upon  the  girl. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Jacobs,  sternly. 

"  You  can  easily  send  it  back,"  continued 
Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs  again. 

She  continued  to  roll  the  napkin  about  the 
spoons.  She  would  have  said  that  she  was 
"  trying  to  see  light."  Her  way  looked  ex- 
tremely dark  before  her.  In  addition  to  be- 
ing deeply  repulsive,  this  creature  was  also  a 
thief. 

She  kept  thrusting  back  from  her  the  temp- 
tation to  put  Barker  in  care  of  the  selectmen 


DALLY  157 

and  let  him  be  taken  straight  to  the  poor- 
house.  She  revolted  at  the  thought  of  his 
being  under  her  roof,  even  for  one  night. 

Mingled  with  this  temptation  came  the 
memory  of  her  monthly  contributions  for 
foreign  missions.  Why  did  she  contribute 
to  the  heathen?  Why  was  she  a  Christian? 
It  had  been  a  happiness,  mingled  with  a  great 
deal  of  puzzled  care,  to  take  Dally.  But  this 
being  !  Had  he  a  soul,  and  was  it  as  precious 
as  Daily's?  It  was  a  part  of  Mrs.  Jacobs's 
creed  always  to  think  of  souls.  Mrs.  Lander 
often  told  her  that  she  believed  souls  were 
just  as  well  left  to  take  care  of  themselves ; 
if  you  thought  of  them  you  were  sure  to 
be  uncomfortable.  And  why  be  uncomforta- 
ble? 

"  I'll  go  over  myself  in  the  morning,"  at 
last  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  tying  a  white  string 
around  the  package. 

Barker  clumsily  got  out  of  his  chair  and 
stood  by  it.  He  was  holding  tight  to  each 
side  of  his  jacket.  His  half-torpid  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  widow  as  she  stood,  resolved  and 
alert. 

"  Yo'  needn't  be  afeared,"  he  said.  "  They 
won't  cotch  me.  Dally'll  like  thur  spoons." 


153  DALLY 

Mrs.  Jacobs  groaned. 

"You  stole  urn,"  she  said.  "And  from 
folks  who  were  kind  to  ye." 

"But  they  won't  cotch  me,"  repeated  Bar- 
ker. He  added  that  Dally  liked  "shiny 
things." 

As  for  Dally,  she  seemed  incapable  of 
speech  for  the  moment. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  was  not  going  to  stand  and 
argue  with  the  boy.  She  told  him  sharply 
that  he  need  not  speak  again.  He  had  stolen 
the  silver  from  the  Pelham  house.  It  should 
be  carried  back. 

She  made  up  a  bed  on  the  old  settee  in 
the  kitchen.  She  sent  Dally  up- stairs  to 
bed,  and  she  waited  until  Barker  was  asleep, 
which  was  as  soon  as  he  lay  down  ;  then  she 
carefully  locked  him  in  and  went  to  the  sit- 
ting-room, where  Mrs.  Lander  was  still  en- 
gaged with  her  magazine. 

"  Don't  talk !"  exclaimed  the  widow,  as  she 
sat  down.  "  I've  got  a  mighty  sight  of  think- 
in'  to  do  between  now  'n'  mornin',  'n'  I  want 
all  my  wits  about  me.  I  guess  I  shall  need 
what  mind  I've  got,  'n'  more,  too." 

It  was  Dally  who  returned  the  silver.  She 
begged  to  do  it.  She  walked  over  to  Lane- 


DALLY  159 

ville  with  it.  As  she  was  passing  by  the 
Winslows'  the  door  opened,  and  Bill  came 
out  on  his  way  to  school. 

He  was  struck  by  the  tragedy  in  Daily's 
face.  He  walked  beside  her,  but  did  not 
speak  until  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the 
Winslows'. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked.  Then 
he  exclaimed,  impetuously :  "  Do  let  me  help 
you !" 

The  voice  and  the  look  of  the  boy  were  too 
much  for  Daily's  self-possession.  She  sud- 
denly began  to  cry  in  such  a  tornado-like 
way  as  to  make  her  companion  wild  with 
wonder  and  sympathy.  She  had  not  slept, 
she  had  not  cried,  all  night.  She  had  not 
known  how  to  deal  with  the  emotions  that 
thronged  upon  her  and  tossed  her  about 
through  the  dark  hours.  She  had  wanted 
Barker;  but  it  was  "horrid"  to  have  him. 
Why  was  it  horrid  ?  Hadn't  she  known  before 
that  he  was  a  dirty  little  lump  of  a  wretch, 
.who  always  stole  when  he  had  a  chance? 
But  he  had  thought  to  please  her  with  that 
silver.  She  couldn't  have  him  live  with  her ; 
she  couldn't  have  him  go  away.  She  should 
never  be  happy  again. 


160  DALLY 

Bill  silently  took  the  package  from  Dally. 
It  seemed  to  burden  her.  She  bent  over  and 
wrung  her  hands.  She  made  heart-breaking 
little  moans.  The  worst  of  her  suffering  came 
from  the  consciousness  that  she  was  not  really 
loyal  to  Barker.  If  she  were,  would  she  be 
disgusted?  She  could  not  remember  that 
she  used  to  be  disgusted. 


XIII 

MR.  DODSON  ACTS  UPON  HIS  IDEA 

(HE  Jacobs  neighborhood  was  excit- 
ed. There  was  a  certain  holy  horror 
mingled  with  the  excitement  that 
made  it  intensely  enjoyable.  The  woman 
who  had  once  come  to  Mrs.  Jacobs  for  cher- 
ry rum  for  her  daughter's  "  cholery  morbus," 
and  who  had  found  that  Dally  had  taken  that 
rum,  this  woman  told  every  one  she  saw  that 
"  things  wa'n't  as  they  used  to  be ;  things 
wa'n't  right.  She  didn't  think  'twas  fittin' 
for  the  Widder  'Bijah  to  carry  on  with  sech 
a  high  hand." 

The  general  feeling  seemed  to  be  that  the 
widow  ought  to  be  spoken  to.  But  when  it 
came  to  trying  to  decide  who  should  speak 
to  her,  no  one  seemed  eager  for  that  duty. 
The  unanimous  vote  fell  upon  Mrs.  Peter 
Winslow,  but,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  that 
lady  refused  point  blank  to  meddle.  She 
said  with  decision  that  "  she  wouldn't  touch 
the  matter  with  a  ten-foot  pole." 
ii 


162  DALLY 

It  was  then  remembered  and  commented 
upon  that  Mrs.  Winslow  had  not  been  heard 
to  join  in  the  conversation  about  the  "doin's  " 
at  the  Jacobs  place.  She  listened  eagerly  to 
all  talk,  but  when  any  one  turned  to  her  she 
only  nipped  her  lips  in  and  said  she  "  hadn't 
nothin'  to  say." 

The  reason  for  this  reticence  was  because 
her  son  William,  true  to  his  assertion  to  his 
sister,  had  "  fixed  his  mother." 

That  morning  when  he  had  joined  Dally, 
who  was  on  her  way  to  return  the  stolen  sil- 
ver, he  had  not  only  walked  as  far  as  the 
school-house  with  her,  but  he  had  accompa- 
nied the  girl  all  the  way  to  Laneville  and 
back.  It  seemed  to  him  barbarous  that  she 
should  go  alone,  suffering  as  she  did.  But 
the  two  had  hardly  spoken.  When  they  had 
parted,  not  far  from  Mrs.  Jacobs's,  Dally  had 
looked  solemnly  at  him,  her  swollen  eyes  hav- 
ing an  expression  which  seemed  to  the  boy 
to  "  stab  right  into  him."  All  she  had  said, 
however,  had  been : 

"  Bill,  I  thank  yo'  very  much." 

Then  she  had  hurried  away  from  him.  He 
had  had  great  difficulty  with  his  Latin  and 
mathematics  that  day.  He  did  not  know 


DALLY  163 

what  Dally  had  carried  to  Laneville  to  Miss 
Pelham's,  for  he  remained  behind  when  she 
went  up  to  the  great  mansion  from  which 
Barker  had  stolen  the  spoons. 

He  knew  she  was  terribly  shaken  when 
she  rejoined  him.  He  knew,  also,  though 
he  told  himself  he  had  no  reason  for  know- 
ing, that  it  all  had  something  to  do  with 
that  boy,  who  had  come  the  night  before. 
Nothing  could  have  made  him  ask  a  ques- 
tion. 

He  thought  it  would  be  safe  to  "  fix  mar  " 
directly.  He  didn't  know  what  she  might 
do  or  say  if  she  learned  of  Barker's  arrival 
before  she  was  fixed.  Barker  did  not  appear 
as  if  he  would  be  a  credit  to  any  one.  Bill 
could  not  bear  to  think  that  creature  was 
any  relation  to  Dally — and  how  his  mother 
would,  as  one  might  say,  relish  the  fact  that 
the  creature  was  the  girl's  brother. 

As  soon  as  Bill  walked  into  the  house  on 
his  arrival  from  school,  he  flung  his  books 
down  and  asked  his  sister  where  his  mother 
was.  He  was  informed  that  she  was  "  tendin' 
to  the  dried  apples." 

Marietta  was  bursting  with  long-smothered 
excitement. 


1 64  DALLY 

"  Oh,  Bill,"  she  cried  out;  "I  ain't  told 
her  that  Barker's  come." 

"  That's  the  talk,"  returned  Bill,  approv- 
ingly. "  I  knew  you  wouldn't." 

Marietta  blushed  with  pride. 

"  I  told  par,  when  he  was  splittin'  wood, 
'n'  I  went  for  chips,"  she  announced. 

"What  did  par  say?" 

"  He  said  'twould  be  jest  as  well  not  to 
say  nothin'  'bout  it  to  mar;  she'd  hear  of  it 
soon  'nough.  'N'  he  said  he  guessed  there'd 
be  the  old  Harry  to  pay." 

Bill  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  His  mind  was 
absorbed  by  the  thought  of  Dally,  and  how 
she  had  looked  that  morning.  But  he  gave 
a  superficial  attention  to  his  sister's  words. 

"  I'll  go  out  to  mother,"  he  said,  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

Mrs.  Winslow's  face  always  lighted  at 
sight  of  her  son.  The  tall  fellow  rapidly 
shuffled  the  half-dried  apples  off  of  the  boards 
into  the  baskets,  that  they  might  be  taken  in 
for  the  night. 

He  informed  his  mother,  in  rather  an  off- 
hand manner,  that  Daily's  brother,  from 
North  Carolina,  had  come. 


DALLY  165 

"  I'll  bet  he's  nothin'  to  boast  of,"  she  said 
quickly  and  viciously. 

"  I  guess  so,  too,"  was  the  response.  "  I 
saw  him.  He  came  while  Met  and  I  were 
there.  He's  a  tough  one,  by  the  looks  of 
him.  He'll  make  trouble."  Here  Bill  looked 
his  mother  full  in  the  eyes,  with  that  mas- 
terful way  which  she  adored,  and  which  she 
never  dared  to  go  against,  and  said : 

"  I  shall  expect  you  won't  say  anything  to 
make  things  unpleasant  for  the  folks  over 
there,"  nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of 
the  widow's. 

Mrs.  Winslow  whined  a  little,  rebelliously. 
She  admired  her  tyrant,  but  she  foresaw  how 
greatly  she  should  be  tempted  to  disobey. 

Bill  frowned  fiercely.  He  did  not  waste 
any  more  words.  He  had  ruled  his  mother 
too  many  years  to  have  any  fears  now  for 
his  empire. 

Therefore  it  was  that  Mrs.  Winslow  did 
not  say  anything  upon  the  topic  presently 
much  talked  of ;  but  she  looked  all  she  could. 

Barker  was  supposed  to  do  Mrs.  Jacobs's 
"chores."  It  is  well  known  in  New  Eng- 
land that  chores  include  a  variety  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  work,  but  none  of  it  is  heavy. 


166  DALLY 

They  usually  require  to  be  done,  mostly, 
night  and  morning,  with  a  few  duties  at  noon. 
A  man  who  is  quite  feeble  is  generally  able 
to  "  do  his  chores." 

When  there  is  only  one  cow  to  milk,  every- 
thing is  much  easier,  for  milking  has  always 
been  considered  under  this  head.  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs kept  one  cow,  two  pigs  to  "  root  round" 
under  the  barn,  about  fifty  hens,  and  one  old 
horse.  She  needed  the  horse  to  take  her  to 
meeting.  She  didn't  need  the  pigs,  but  she 
said  she  was  used  to  pigs,  and  it  seemed 
kind  of  shiftless  not  to  have  one  on  the  place. 
She  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  all  her  chores 
herself,  as  well  as  her  housework.  But  she 
hired  a  man  to  take  care  of  her  garden.  Since 
Dally  had  come,  the  two  had  done  the  work 
together,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  surprised  at 
the  amount  of  enjoyment  there  was  in  "put- 
tering round"  at  the  barn  and  on  the  farm, 
with  Dally  to  help.  When  Dally  went  to 
school  there  was  still  time  in  the  morning,  and 
the  widow  had  all  the  day  to  look  for  the 
girl's  return.  If  the  elder  woman  did  not  care 
to  go  out,  Dally  could  do  it  all  alone,  and  was 
only  subject  to  such  lapses  as  saved  life  from 
being  monotonous.  You  never  knew  exactly 


DALLY  167 

what  Dally  might  do,  but  as  time  went  on, 
the  chances  grew  smaller  that  it  would  be 
anything  really  dreadful.  One  of  the  child's 
charms  was  the  extent  and  variety  of  her 
possibilities. 

And  now  that  Barker  had  come,  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs was  dreading  something  all  the  time. 

It  was.  not  long  before  the  people  near 
missed  their  best  pears  and  grapes.  There 
were  awful  times  in  hen-roosts.  Horses  past- 
ured in  remote  fields  had  been  found  "  all 
of  a  lather."  Somebody  had  ridden  them. 
Cream,  in  little  dairy-houses  built  over  wells, 
was  gone.  Woods  were  set  on  fire.  Eggs 
were  strangely  scarce.  But  all  these  things 
put  together  were  not  so  disagreeable  as  a 
curious  sense  of  some  evil  which  pervaded 
the  hamlet. 

Peter  Winslow,  in  consultation  with  his 
daughter  in  the  wood-house,  said  he  didn't 
want  to  blame  nobody.  It  was  jest  like  old 
witchcraft  times.  He  shouldn't  be  surprised 
one  bit  to  see  an  old  woman  flying  through 
the  sky  on  a  broomstick. 

Marietta,  who  was  somewhat  literal-mind- 
ed, immediately  asked,  "  What  old  wom- 
an ?" 


168  DALLY 

Mr.  Winslow  chuckled  and  hesitated,  but 
finally  said : 

"  I  guess  yer  mother  'd  do's  well's  any- 
body for  a  broomstick." 

Marietta  asserted  that  mar  was  too  heavy 
to  go  in  that  way.  And  she  began  to  put 
unanswerable  questions  as  to  how  any  one 
could  ride  a  broomstick,  and  what  made  the 
broomstick  go,  until  Mr.  Winslow  was  very 
sorry  he  had  started  the  subject. 

However  strong  suspicion  might  be,  as  yet 
no  one  could  say  there  was  the  slightest  rea- 
son that  this  suspicion  should  rest  on  Barker. 
He  did  not  seem  to  go  anywhere.  People 
driving  by  the  Jacobs  farm  would  often  see 
the  boy  "low  louting"  across  the  yard,  per- 
haps, as  he  would  say,  "toting"  wood,  or 
with  a  milk-pail  in  his  hand.  If  he  looked 
at  any  one,  it  was  with  downward  head,  in  a 
furtive  manner.  He  was  not  tall,  but  had  a 
stunted  appearance.  Although  Mrs.  Jacobs 
faithfully  saw  that  he  washed  his  face  and 
hands  before  each  meal,  the  boy  was  always 
grimy.  True  to  her  principles,  however,  the 
widow  had  him  sit  at  the  table  with  her. 
She  said  that  she  did  not  consider  that  she 
was  any  better  than  other  folks.  To  this 


DALLY  169 

Mrs.  Lander  responded  that  she  herself  was 
not  considering  the  question  of  souls  and 
immortality,  but  she  personally  preferred 
not  to  see  that  kind  of  finger-nails,  and  not  to 
hear  that  kind  of  noise  when  she  was  taking 
her  own  food  and  drink.  So  it  came  to  pass 
that  this  lady  was  served  first.  Then  Mrs. 
Jacobs  and  Dally  and  Barker  broke  their  fast. 

But  there  was  no  more  cheer  and  happi- 
ness at  the  meals.  Dally  was  not  like  her- 
self. The  boy,  however,  seemed  to  be  ex- 
actly himself.  He  ate  and  drank  a  great 
deal.  If  he  were  any  more  pleased  to  be 
with  Dally  than  not  to  be  with  her,  no  one 
knew  it,  not  even  the  girl. 

The  widow  used  to  see  Dally  look  ear- 
nestly at  the  boy,  her  mouth  drooping  and 
her  brow  frowning. 

When  a  week  or  two  had  passed,  a  great 
many  of  Mrs.  Jacobs's  hens  had  died  ;  the 
cow  had  "shrunk  in  her  milk"  to  that  degree 
that  the  widow  was  obliged  to  buy  milk  of 
a  neighbor.  One  pig  had  died,  and  the  oth- 
er appeared  to  be  ailing. 

"And  I  can't  put  my  finger  on  a  thing," 
cried  the  widow  to  herself. 

Mrs.  Lander  openly  asserted   and  main- 


170  DALLY 

tained  that  she  did  not  believe  the  Lord  re- 
quired that  the  entire  neighborhood  should 
be  sacrificed  in  order  to  give  Barker's  soul  a 
chance  to  live.  She  even  went  so  far  as  to 
say  that  some  souls  were  far  more  valuable 
than  others,  and  she  did  not  believe  this 
boy's  soul  was  worth  a  cent.  She  occasion- 
ally showed  by  a  phrase  or  word  that  she 
had  been  brought  up  in  New  England. 

Daily's  hound,  Sam,  at  first  refused  even 
to  stop  growling  in  Barker's  presence.  He 
would  sit  up  on  his  haunches  close  by  his 
mistress,  and  keep  up  a  low  and  almost  in- 
cessant thunder,  his  tail  stretched  out  rigidly 
behind  him. 

He  would  wag  the  tip  of  this  tail  a  very 
little  when  Dally  remonstrated,  but  would 
not  stop  growling. 

Barker,  in  his  slow,  sullen  way,  once  said 
to  Dally  that  "  Mebby  he'd  pison  that  critter 
when  he  gurt  ready." 

The  girl's  eyes  flamed.  She  threw  out 
her  hand  as  if  already  defending  her  pet. 

"  If  yo'  p'ison  him,  I'll  kill  yo' !"  she  cried. 

And  then  Barker's  face,  rather  than  Barker 
himself,  grinned  sluggishly.  He  made  no 
reply,  but  walked  away. 


DALLY  171 

Dally  felt  that  life  was  getting  very  hard. 
Her  gray  squirrel,  which  Bill  Winslow  had 
given  her,  was  another  constant  source  of 
anxiety  to  her.  She  kept  it  and  the  dog 
where  she  slept,  and  every  day  when  she 
went  to  school  she  solemnly  committed  them 
to  Mrs.  Jacobs's  care,  lest  "  something  might 
happen  to  them." 

She  never  said  at  whose  hands  something 
might  happen.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the 
child  grew  haggard  and  thin. 

It  was  on  one  of  those  days  that  Mr.  Dod- 
son  hitched  his  horse  in  Mrs.  Jacobs's  yard, 
and  came  in  at  the  back  door. 

He  said  he  had  been  so  busy  he  couldn't 
come  before.  He  said  it  was  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  to  go  over  to  the  "  deepo  "  twice  a 
day. 

To  these  statements  Mrs.  Jacobs  respond- 
ed, dryly,  that  it  must  be  lots  of  trouble. 
She  wondered  why  he  had  come.  She  did 
not  know  that  he  had  been  cherishing  his 
idea  ever  since  he  had  given  Barker  a  lift  on 
the  road. 

He  conversed  for  a  while  about  the  relig- 
ious interest,  which,  he  was  sorry  to  say, 
seemed  to  be  subsiding.  He  thought  fewer 


172:  DALLY 

sheaves  had  been  gathered  for  the  Master 
than  he  had  hoped  when  the  revival  began. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  waited  patiently  until  he 
should  make  known  his  errand.  At  last  it 
was  revealed  that  he  was  so  very  busy  he 
would  like  to  take  Barker  over  to  his  place 
to  help  him.  He  "  would  lodge,  V  clothe, 
'n'  victual"  the  boy  for  what  work  he  would 
do.  He  guessed  he  would  keep  him  right 
along. 

The  widow  conscientiously  remarked  that 
Barker  was  not  as  much  help  to  her  as  she 
had  hoped;  she  didn't  exactly  know  why; 
she  didn't  want  Mr.  Dodson  to  take  him  un- 
der false  impressions.  She  could  not  help 
adding,  with  some  art,  that  "p'raps  the  boy 
needed  a  man." 

Mr.  Dodson  smiled  indulgently.  He  said 
he  didn't  know  'bout  that,  but  he  guessed 
Mis'  Dodson  could  manage  him.  He'd  resk 
Mis'  Dodson  with  'most  any  boy.  He  him- 
self was  so  busy  that  he  couldn't  do  much. 
Mis'  Dodson  would  tend  to  Barker. 

Barker,  being  brought  forward,  was  torpid 
as  usual.  He  manifested  no  repugnance 
towards  going  with  Mr.  Dodson.  He  did 
not  mention  Dally. 


DALLY  173 

When  he  was  in  the  carriage,  Mrs.  Jacobs 
forced  herself  to  tell  him  that  he  must  re- 
member "  that  this  was  his  home  to  come 
to,  any  time." 

He  nodded.  And  so  he  went  off  to  be 
"  tended  to  "  by  Mis'  Dodson. 

That  night,  when  Dally  went  up-stairs  to 
her  own  little  room,  the  peace  that  filled  her 
heart  was,  she  feared,  something  wicked.  She 
could  hardly  bear  to  acknowledge  to  herself 
that  it  was  peace.  She  prayed  to  God  to 
forgive  her  for  being  glad  that  Barker  was 
gone. 


XIV 

GROWN  UP 

[ARIETTA  WINSLOW  has  grown 
into  a  tall  girl  who  has  an  eye  to 
dress,  and  who  has  "  steady  compa- 
ny." Some  call  it  having  "  a  beau."  He 
came  every  Sunday  evening,  and  remained 
until  eleven.  This  is  what  constitutes  "  stid- 
dy  company." 

When  a  beau  has  arrived  at  the  ability  to 
visit  Sunday  evenings,  and  the  fact  becomes 
known,  it  is  tantamount  to  the  announce- 
ment of  an  engagement.  The  girl  is  then 
believed  to  be  "  fixing."  In  other  words, 
she  is  supposed  to  be  making  table-cloths, 
pillow-cases,  and  other  articles  necessary  for 
housekeeping. 

If  a  girl  is  known  to  have  an  admirer,  you 
do  not  usually  ask  if  she  is  engaged  ;  you  in- 
quire if  she  is  "  fixing."  You  will  be  under- 
stood. There  is  a  certain  respect  accorded  to 
a  young  woman  in  this  position.  Although 


DALLY  175 

she  is  not  yet  married,  she  will  soon  be.  She 
has  secured,  or  almost  secured,  the  man. 
Girls  who  are  not  fixing,  try,  in  her  compa- 
ny, to  seem  as  if  they  did  not  envy  her. 
They  talk  gayly ;  they  rally  the  engaged 
one  ;  they  say  they  have  never  seen  the  man 
yet  whom  they  would  even  think  of  marry- 
ing. The  lucky  one  appears  to  believe  them. 
Marietta  was  very  forbearing  in  her  man- 
ner, notwithstanding  the  exaltation  of  her 
position.  She  wrote  to  her  brother  Bill,  who 
was  at  college,  that  one  of  the  best  things 
about  being  engaged  was  that  it  made  "  mar 
haul  in  her  horns  a  little."  Marietta  frankly 
confessed  that  she  didn't  know  what  she 
should  have  done  with  mar,  seeing  Bill  was 
away,  if  she  hadn't  been  engaged.  She  pit- 
ied poor  par.  When  she  and  Theodore  were 
married  she  wished  par  would  come  and  live 
with  her,  and  let  mar  go  it  alone,  and  see 
how  she  liked  it.  Par  almost  cried  every 
time  the  marriage  was  mentioned.  In  re- 
turn, Bill  would  write  that  his  father  must 
be  induced  in  some  way  to  brace  up  and  call 
his  soul  his  own.  But  while  he  wrote  those 
words  he  knew  that  Mrs.  Winslow's  husband 
had  lived  too  long  with  Mrs.  Winslow  to  be 


176 


DALLY 


able  at  this  late  day  to  consider  his  soul  as 
his  own  particular  property. 

Even  during  her  courtship,  Marietta  had 
never  failed  in  the  ardor  of  her  devotion  to 
Dally.  She  went  so  far  as  to  tell  her  "beau  " 
that  she  did  not  love  him  so  well  as  she  did 
Dally.  At  this  information  he  laughed,  hav- 
ing the  true  masculine  disbelief  in  one  wom- 
an's love  for  another. 

Nevertheless,  Marietta  told  the  truth.  Ever 
since  those  days  when  Dally  had  shut  Mrs. 
Winslow.into  the  cellar,  and  Bill  had  made 
his  mother  say  she  forgave  the  child,  there 
had  been  in  Marietta's  feelings  towards  the 
Southern  waif  a  fervor  and  passion  and  ro- 
mance by  the  side  of  which  her  affection  for 
Theodore  was  somewhat  prosaic,  though  it 
was  genuine  affection  all  the  same. 

Young  Graham,  generally  called  "  Thodor," 
was  such  a  good  "  ketch  "  that  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  now  "  knuckled,"  as  she  called  it,  a  good 
deal  to  the  girl  who  had  had  the  good  fortune 
to  attract  him.  His  father  owned  a  large 
farm  over  Farnham  way,  and  he  had  only 
this  son,  and  no  daughters.  The  Grahams 
were  always  "  likely "  and  always  "  scrab- 
blin'  " — better  still,  they  were  "  forehanded." 


DALLY  177 

Thodor  showed  his  good  taste  in  fancying 
Marietta,  who  had  lost  her  freckles,  and  was 
now  almost  brilliant -looking,  with  her  big 
eyes  and  her  red,  saucy  mouth,  and  her  ten- 
dency to  array  herself  becomingly.  She  did 
not  show  any  excessive  joy  when  he  spoke 
to  her,  and  that  was  an  attraction.  She  even 
dared  to  snub  him  sometimes.  The  novelty 
of  being  snubbed  was  another  attraction.  In 
these  New  England  towns  it  is  a  melancholy 
fact  that  young  men  are  treated  too  well. 
There  are  so  few  of  them,  comparatively, 
that  they  are  considered  precious  because 
they  are  rare ;  and  they  are  admired  accord- 
ingly. 

It  was  a  mild  day  in  October.  It  was 
also  Sunday,  and  young  Graham  had  come 
over  early,  that  he  might  take  Marietta  to 
drive  in  his  new  buggy.  A  buggy  is  a  thing 
that  foreigners  seem  to  consider  particularly 
American,  and  particularly  improper,  that  is, 
when  occupied  by  a  young  man  and  a  young 
woman. 

I  am  glad  there  was  no  foreigner,  with  his 

note-book,  near  enough  to  see  the  occupants 

of  this  buggy,  for  the  note-book  would  surely 

have  contained  the  record  of  the  fact  that 

12 


I78  DALLY 

the  man's  arm  was  about  the  woman's  shoul- 
ders. Think,  then,  of  the  inference — also  set 
down,  to  be  printed  as  soon  as  the  traveller 
could  fly  to  his  publisher — think,  I  say,  of 
the  inference  in  regard  to  the  morals  of  Ran- 
som ! 

The  horse  was  going  a  great  deal  at  his 
own  will,  cropping  a  mouthful  of  oak  leaves 
or  a  twig  here  and  there  by  the  wayside, 
and  zigzagging  the  carriage  after  him. 

Marietta  was  looking  absently  along  the 
road.  Theodore  was  looking  at  Marietta. 
The  highway,  save  for  their  presence,  had 
been  entirely  solitary  since  they  entered 
upon  it.  That  this  was  its  usual  condi- 
tion the  grass  each  side  of  the  horse 
tracks  showed.  Possibly  the  young  man 
had  chosen  this  direction  for  reasons  of 
this  kind. 

Marietta  was  just  thinking  that  here  was 
the  place  where  she  and  Dally  had  ridden 
the  bicycle  when  Mrs.  Winslow  was  in  the 
cellar.  Her  eyes  suddenly  became  fixed  on 
the  farthest  curve  in  the  road,  where  a  white 
hound  with  large  black  patches  upon  it  had 
come  into  view,  walking  leisurely  and  snuff- 
ing at  different  clumps  of  faded  brakes. 


DALLY 


179 


Marietta  sat  straight,  and  surprise  came 
into  her  face. 

"  I  do  believe  that's  her  hound  !"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  It  is  certainly  a  hound,"  responded  the 
young  man,  a  little  irritated  that  a  hound 
should  attract  attention  from  him. 

"  And  she's  with  him  !"  now  cried  Mari- 
etta. "  Le'  me  get  out  quick  !" 

The  horse  was  pulled  in,  and,  before  Gra- 
ham could  help  her,  his  companion  was 
on  the  ground  and  running  rapidly  towards 
a  figure  which  had  now  appeared  round 
the  same  curve  from  which  the  dog  had 
come. 

The  young  man  stood  at  his  horse's  head 
and  watched  the  two.  The  figure  was  that 
of  a  girl  who  was  very  slender,  very  erect, 
and  who  moved  with  a  curious  freedom 
quite  different  from  the  movement  of  any 
one  he  had  ever  seen.  It  was  a  motion  as 
free  as  the  motion  of  an  athletic  young  man 
who  never  thinks  of  his  own  limbs ;  but  it 
suggested  nothing  masculine. 

He  saw  the  two  embrace  with  fervor 
where  they  met,  a  few  rods  away.  He  heard 
a  voice  say : 


180  DALLY 

"  I  only  came  this  noon.  I  could  not  wait 
any  longer  to  see  you." 

He  heard  Marietta  cry  out  in  fervent  hap- 
piness : 

"  Oh,  Dally !"  and  saw  her  fling  herself 
again  on  her  friend. 

It  was  then  that  Graham  exclaimed  to 
himself:  "  So  that  is  Dally.  She  is  kind  of 
different,  that's  a  fact.  But  I  can't  see  how 
she  looks,  yet." 

Presently  the  two  girls  came  towards  him. 
Marietta  introduced  him  to  "  Miss  Jacobs." 
Dally  said  she  was  very  glad  to  know  any 
one  whom  Marietta  loved.  She  said  it  so 
simply  that  nobody  blushed  or  was  confused. 
Dally  glanced  with  searching  intentness  for 
an  instant  at  Graham,  plainly  to  decide  if  he 
were  good  enough  for  her  friend. 

And  now  Graham  could  see  her  face. 
He  thought  he  was  a  good  judge  in  such 
matters.  He  remembered  to  have  heard 
when  a  boy  something  about  the  "  Widder 
'Bijah  Jacobs  having  took  a  poor  gal  from 
Caroliny."  When  he  had  heard  this  fact 
remarked  upon  he  had,  boy-like,  instantly 
formed  an  opinion.  In  spite  of  all  Marietta 
had  said,  he  had  held  to  that  opinion  ever 


DALLY  l8l 

since.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
child  was  a  lying,  underhanded,  low-lived 
thing  in  reality,  no  matter  what  she  might 
make  people  think  she  was.  He  had  also 
made  up  his  mind  that  when  Marietta  was 
once  his  wife,  she  should  drop  this  acquaint- 
ance. Being  a  shrewd  youth,  however,  he 
had  kept  this  resolution  to  himself. 

In  truth,  Dally  had  not  grown  into  the 
kind  of  young  woman  usually  admired  by 
men.  If  she  had  been  pretty  as  a  child,  she 
was  not  so  now.  Her  hair  had  retained  its 
almost  ashen  lightness  and  its  tinge  of  yel- 
low ;  it  was  abundant  and  soft,  and  of  that 
kind  which,  as  Marietta  said,  "was  forever- 
lastin'ly  comin'  down."  Hair-pins  did  not 
have  sufficient  power  over  it.  If  a  woman 
who  has  beautiful  eyes  cannot  be  what  is 
here  called  "  homely,"  then  Daily's  face  is 
redeemed.  But  there  is  too  much  pathos 
in  these  dusky  brown  eyes.  And  yet  they 
can  sparkle.  Her  whole  face  can  be  almost 
iridescent,  like  a  child's  countenance.  But 
it  is  the  height  of  folly  to  try  to  describe 
a  face.  Certainly  Daily's  features  are  not 
describable — it  is  only  the  Maud  faces  which 
can  be  fitted  with  adjectives. 


182  DALLY 

"  How  did  your  dog  like  New  York  ?" 
asked  Graham,  as  they  all  stood  in  the  lone- 
ly road. 

Marietta  was  absorbed  in  gazing  at  her 
friend  and  did  not  try  to  talk. 

"  My  dog  pined — as  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 

Marietta  roused  herself. 

"  I  guess  I  shouldn't  pine  if  I  had  a  chance 
to  make  a  long  visit  in  New  York,"  she  said. 
"  How's  Mrs.  Lander?" 

"  Better." 

"  Did  she  want  to  spare  you  ?" 

"  No." 

Dally  turned  and  whistled  to  the  hound, 
who  came  in  long  lopes  from  across  a  mead- 
ow, and  who  rapturously  licked  the  hand 
held  out  to  him,  and  then  sat  down  on  his 
haunches  within  touching  distance  of  his 
mistress. 

"And  you  might  have  stopped  longer?" 
inquired  Marietta,  with  incredulous  won- 
der. 

"Yes." 

Dally  looked  with  intent,  smiling  eyes  at 
her  friend. 

"  I'm  a  free  creature,"  she  said.  "  I  can't 
be  shut  up  in  a  city.  Besides,"  here  her  face 


DALLY  183 

took  on  a  curious,  melting  softness,  "aunty 
needs  me,  and  I  need  her." 

"  She  wants  you,  fast  enough,"  returned 
Marietta.  "  I've  watched  her  at  meet'n.  She 
has  looked  so  solemn,  sett'n  in  her  pew  all 
alone.  And  I  knew  she  was  thinking  of 
you.  She's  always  been  bound  up  in  you. 
And  no  wonder!" 

Marietta  now  exuberantly  flung  her  arms 
about  Dally. 

Graham  turned  away. 

"  This  is  mighty  trying  to  a  fellow  stand- 
ing by,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 

Marietta  looked  at  him  round  Daily's 
shoulder. 

"  You'll  have  to  put  up  with  worse  things 
'n  this,"  she  said,  gayly;  "won't  he,  Dally?" 

Dally  turned  her  head,  that  she  might  give 
a  glance  at  the  young  man. 

"  That  depends  upon  how  bad  he  con- 
siders this,"  she  answered. 

Graham's  eyes  sparkled.  His  rather  heav- 
ily moulded  and  too  self-satisfied  face  was 
animated. 

"  I  consider  it  horrible,"  he  answered,  "  for 
a  mere  spectator." 

Dally  withdrew  herself  from  Marietta. 


1 84  DALLY 

"You  must  remember  Marietta  and  I 
have  loved  each  other  a  good  while,"  she 
said,  gravely,  "  and  I  have  been  away." 

"  I  will  go  away — that  I  may  come  back." 

Graham  looked  at  Marietta  as  he  said 
this,  and  she  blushed,  as  was  proper.  She 
also  wondered  a  little  to  learn  that  Thodor 
could  speak  in  this  manner.  She  didn't 
think  it  was  like  him.  But  he  rose  in  her 
estimation. 

After  a  few  minutes  Dally  announced  that 
she  must  go  on.  Now  she  had  seen  Mari- 
etta, she  would  not  stop  at  the  house,  but 
walk  on  to  Mr.  Dodson's  to  find  Barker. 
He  did  not  know  she  had  come  home. 
Aunty  had  told  her  Barker  must  be  well, 
for  she  had  heard  nothing  to  the  contrary. 
Did  Marietta  know  anything  about  him  ? 

Marietta  had  seen  Barker  digging  pota- 
toes on  the  Dodson  farm  a  week  or  two  ago. 
She  had  taken  pains  to  stop  and  tell  him 
she  had  just  heard  from  his  sister. 

"But  I  needn't  have  told  him,"  said  the 
girl,  indignantly,  "  for  he  never  answered  a 
word.  I  don't  believe  he  cares  one  way  nor 
the  other." 

Marietta  said  it  was  too  far  for  Dally  to 


DALLY  185 

walk.  They  would  all  "  squeeze  into  the 
buggy,  and  Thodor  should  drive  them." 

Thodor  said  "  certainly,"  and  he  assisted 
the  girls  in,  and  then  sat  down  gingerly  and 
uncomfortably  between  them. 

The  Dodson  house  and  farm  were  a  little 
nearer  "wrack  'n'  ruin  "  than  they  had  been 
a  few  years  before.  Josephus  Dodson  still 
drove  the  "  deepo'  wagon,"  and  had  no  time 
for  anything  else.  He  was  just  climbing 
into  that  wagon,  although  it  was  Sunday, 
when  the  buggy  stopped  and  Dally  came 
towards  him. 

Before  the  girl  could  speak  Mr.  Dodson 
informed  her  that  he  "  was  sure  he  didn't 
know  where  Barker  was ;  he  s'posed  he  was 
lazing  round  somewhere." 

Graham  stood  an  instant  with  his  foot  on 
the  step  of  the  buggy  and  his  eyes  on  the 
slim  figure  in  its  plain,  clinging  dark  gown. 
It  was  Mrs.  Lander  who  had  ordered  that 
gown,  and  it  possessed  all  the  perfection 
which  any  raiment  subject  to  her  supervi- 
sion must  possess. 

The  grace  of  that  figure  seemed  to  be  so 
great  that  Graham  could  not  remove  his 
glance  from  it.  But  he  did  take  his  place, 


186  DALLY 

saying  that  Miss  Jacobs  was  not  what  he 
called  pretty  at  all. 

Marietta  looked  at  him  with  some  con- 
tempt. 

"Who  said  she  was  pretty?"  she  asked. 
"  She  is  worse  V  that.  If  you  know  her, 
you  can't  forget  her  a  minute." 

Thodor  did  not  appear  to  consider  the 
subject  worth  pursuing.  He  was  very  con- 
versational on  other  topics,  and  remained 
almost  an  hour  later  than  usual  that  even- 
ing, quite  exerting  himself  to  be  entertain- 
ing. 

Dally  had  gone  into  the  Dodson  barn  in 
her  search  for  Barker.  She  saw  a  thick-set, 
undersized  young  man,  or  large  boy,  sitting 
bent  over  something  he  held  between  his 
knees. 

Barker  turned  his  head  with  apparent  un- 
willingness when  he  heard  the  girl's  voice 
pronounce  his  name. 

"  So  you're  thur,  be  yo'  ?"  he  said. 

He  resumed  his  bending  over  a  trap,  as 
Dally  saw  it  was.  Her  heart  began  to  have 
that  cold  sinking  to  which  it  was  accus- 
tomed when  in  this  presence. 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 


DALLY  187 

"Are  you  at  all  glad  to  see  me?"  she 
asked,  pathetically. 

"  Of  co'se,"  he  answered.  But  he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  trap. 

She  sat  down  on  a  milking-stool.  She 
looked  at  him  with  such  intenseness  that 
her  features  grew  almost  set. 

With  a  quicker  movement  than  was  habit- 
ual, Barker  lifted  his  head,  and  his  sullen  eyes 
fixed  themselves  o^n  his  sister's  face. 

He  had  never  relinquished  his  dialect. 
Dally  had  begun  to  drop  it  from  the  day 
that  Barker  appeared. 

"  Do  yo'  want  thur  mountings  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  used  to  miss  them,"  she  answered, 
much  startled  by  his  question. 

"  Used  !"  he  repeated,  scornfully  but  heav- 
ily. 

"  I  jest  long  fur  thur  mountings." 

Dally  rose  quickly.  She  came  close  to 
him. 

"  Barker,"  she  said,  breathlessly,  "  why 
don't  you  come  back  to  aunty's  to  live? 
Why  don't  you  care  for  me,  or  —  any- 
thing ?" 

Barker  put  down  his  trap  and  rose  slowly. 


188  DALLY 

He  almost  laughed  as  he  turned  his  uncouth 
frame  towards  his  companion. 

"  I  ain't  no  sech  er  fule  as  ter  be  er  ear- 
in',"  he  said.  "  I  know  er  few  things,  I  reck- 
on." He  picked  up  the  box-trap.  "  Which 
way  d'  yo'  make  out  as  thur  mountings  lay 
from  hyar?" 

Dally  pointed.  Barker  looked  steadily  at 
her  hand.  Then  he  walked  out  of  the  barn 
and  down  the  lane  behind  it. 

Daily's  hound  snuffed  after  his  steps  for  a 
few  yards,  then  stood  looking  and  growling 
at  the  retreating  form. 


XV 

MARIETTA'S    LOVER 

THEODORE  GRAHAM'S  new  horse 
and  buggy  were  standing  in  front 
of  the  Winslow  house.  The  young 
man,  in  his  best  suit,  had  just  run  in  to  say 
he  was  going  to  drive  to  Boston.  He  should 
take  an  hour  to  go  out  to  Cambridge  and  see 
Bill.  Had  they  any  word  to  send  ? 

Immediately  Mrs.  Winslow  began  to  gath- 
er together  a  bundle  of  winter  flannels  for 
the  sacred  person  of  her  son.  She  did  not 
feel  that  she  could  trust  him  to  buy  them  of 
the  precise  quality  best  suited  to  his  health. 
She  bustled  about.  She  wondered  if  Tho- 
dor  would  take  a  glass  can  of  barberry  pre- 
serve without  breaking  the  can. 

Meanwhile  Thodor  was  standing  in  the 
little  front  entry  with  Marietta.  It  was 
cold.  It  almost  looked  as  if  it  might  snow, 
though  it  was  still  October. 

"  Reg'lar    Thanksgiving  weather,"    Mari- 


I  go  DALLY 

etta  said.  Then  she  added  that  if  mar 
should  be  kind  of  decent,  she  meant  to  have 
Dally  there  for  Thanksgiving ;  Dally  and 
the  Widow  'Bijah,  for  it  would  be  too  bad 
to  separate  them.  And  Bill,  of  course.  A 
real,  old-fashioned  time  they  meant  to  have 
— if  only  mar  would  be  decent.  But  if  Bill 
came,  things  would  be  sure  to  be  right." 

"You  don't  seem  to  include  me,"  re- 
marked Graham,  with  a  laugh.  Marietta 
thought  he  laughed  a  good  deal  that  morn- 
ing. 

"  You,  of  course,"  she  answered. 

He  drew  her  closer. 

"Why  do  you  have  any  one  but  Bill  and 
me?"  he  asked. 

"  Don't  you  like  Dally  ?"  inquired  Mariet- 
ta, beginning  to  bristle  somewhat.  "  You've 
seen  her  consid'able  with  me'  in  the  last  two 
or  three  weeks." 

Thodor  bent  down  and  kissed  his  ques- 
tioner. He  laughed  again.  It  seemed  to 
his  companion  that  his  eyes  were  brighter 
than  she  had  ever  seen  them.  His  heavy 
but  manly  face  was  animated. 

"  I'll  bet  you  like  her,  after  all !"  she  ex- 
claimed. 


DALLY  igi 

Mrs.  Winslow  opened  the  door  with  her 
roll  of  flannels  and  her  jar  of  preserve.  She 
began  to  give  directions  to  Thodor.  No 
one  had  a  chance  to  say  anything  more, 
for  she  completely  occupied  the  time.  The 
colt  sprang  off  down  the  white,  dusty  road. 
Marietta  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after 
the  carriage,  her  arms  rolled  up  in  her  big 
apron.  She  shivered  in  the  sharp  air. 

"  There  is  certainly  snow  up  to  the  north 
of  us,"  she  said  aloud.  "  I  almost  wish  I'd 
ben  going  in  with  Thodor.  But  then,"  with 
a  smile,  "  he  didn't  ask  me." 

She  gave  one  more  glance  down  the  road 
before  going  into  the  kitchen.  This  glance 
showed  her  the  top  of  a  soft  blue  felt  hat  com- 
ing down  along  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 
She  knew  the  hat.  Her  face  brightened. 
She  ran  out  and  met  Dally  at  the  gate. 

"  Do  come  in !"  cried  Marietta,  "  mar's 
awful  cross  to-day.  The  quince  marmalade 
ain't  goin'  right,  and  we've  all  got  to  ketch 
it.  Sence  you've  ben  grown  up  she's  ben 
kind  of  'fraid  to  go  on  so  before  you." 

"  I  -was  coming  to  see  if  she  had  half  a 
dozen  quinces  to  spare  aunty.  We  haven't 
as  many  as  we  thought  we  had." 


I92  DALLY 

The  two  girls  entered  the  house.  A  hot 
odor  of  preserving  grew  stronger  and  strong- 
er as  they  came  to  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  was  not  there  at  the  moment.  Mariet- 
ta sat  down  and  resumed  her  work  of  peeling 
pears.  Dally  stood  leaning  against  the  table, 
watching  the  sharp  knife  go  round  the  fruit. 

"  Mr.  Graham  came  along  just  as  I  left 
home,  so  he  asked  me  to  drive  with  him,  as 
he  was  coming  this  way.  I  had  an  errand 
at  Mrs.  Bailey's  and  stopped  there." 

If  there  were  anything  in  the  least  per- 
functory in  Daily's  manner  or  voice  as  she 
gave  this  information,  it  was  not  noticed. 

Marietta  exclaimed  that  she  "hoped  Tho- 
dor  was  odd  enough  not  to  mention  that  he 
had  just  seen  Dally.  And,  come  to  think  of 
it,  it  was  out  of  his  way  to  come  from  Farn- 
ham  by  the  Widder  "Bijah's." 

"  He  may  have  had  business  on  that 
road,"  remarked  Dally. 

"  Likely's  not,"  was  the  careless  response. 
"  He's  always  stopping  at  Tifft's  Corners ; 
I  s'pose  he  stopped  there  this  morning. 
'Tain't  no  matter,  anyway." 

"  No,"  said  Dally.  "  Do  you  think  your 
mother  can  spare  the  quinces  ?" 


DALLY  193 

She  came  close  to  Marietta  as  she  asked 
the  question,  and  placed  her  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  There  are  a  few  people  whose 
slight  touch  is  a  potent  caress. 

Marietta  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  met  the 
eyes  of  her  friend  intently  for  an  instant. 
She  put  out  a  fruit-stained  hand  and  asked 
impulsively : 

"  Dally,  what  troubles  you  ?  And  you're 
pale." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  pale,  but  I'm  perfectly 
well.  There  comes  your  mother." 

She  drew  back  quickly.  She  did  not  lin- 
ger after  Mrs.  Winslow's  entrance.  In  five 
minutes  more  she  was  walking  homeward 
with  a  small  paper  bag  of  quinces,  and  Sam, 
the  hound,  was  running  by  her  side. 

Marietta  was  tempted  to  leave  her  work 
and  go  "part  way,"  as  of  old,  with  her;  but 
she  knew  her  mother  would  not  allow  that. 
So  she  sat  and  peeled  and  quartered  pears, 
and  wondered  why  there  had  been  that  look 
in  Daily's  eyes.  She  did  not  understand  it 
at  all,  and  she  could  not  get  it  out  of  her 
mind. 

Outside,  the  day  grew  more  and  more 
leaden,  like  a  gloomy  bit  from  November. 
13 


194 


DALLY 


Sometimes  the  clouds  would  part  in  the 
sullen  wind,  and  permit  a  pale  ray  to  come 
down  to  the  earth. 

Along  the  roads  that  wound  through  high 
pastures,  where  the  barberries  were  still  red 
on  some  bushes,  then  down  between  mead- 
ows or  cedar  swamps,  the  colt  was  carrying 
the  new  buggy  and  his  master  towards  Bos- 
ton. 

Almost  into  the  teeth  of  the  northeast 
wind  the  young  man  was  driving.  His  gray 
ulster  was  pulled  up  to  his  ears  and  his  cap 
drawn  forward.  He  sat  upright ;  and  if  the 
spirited  young  animal  lagged,  he  slapped  the 
lines  on  its  back,  and  cried  out  almost  fero- 
ciously at  it. 

Marietta  would  not  have  thought  his  eyes 
sparkling  now.  Instead,  they  had  something 
sullenly  ferocious  in  them,  and  his  mouth 
was  shut  hard,  making  his  face  very  un- 
pleasantly square. 

When  he  had  driven  ten  miles  thus,  and 
his  horse  was  steaming  and  heaving,  he  met 
a  man  jogging  along  in  an  old  wagon.  The 
man  raised  his  hand  imperatively  and  Gra- 
ham pulled  the  lines.  The  colt  stood  quiv- 
ering. 


DALLY  195 

"Young  man,  you're  killing  your  horse," 
was  the  stern  remark.  "  You  ought  to  be 
arrested." 

Graham  looked  at  the  beast,  which  was 
shaking  between  the  shafts. 

"  I'm  a  brute !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Serve  me 
right  to  be  shut  up." 

His  face  relaxed.  The  stranger  looked  at 
him  as  if  wondering  if  it  were  safe  that  he 
should  be  at  large. 

As  his  horse  now  walked  slowly  on,  Gra- 
ham leaned  back  in  his  seat.  Sometimes  he 
would  say  aloud,  as  though  it  were  a  relief 
to  him  to  speak  and  hear  his  own  voice : 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  brute,  every  way — a  brute." 

William  Winslow  was  walking  hurriedly 
across  the  campus  when  he  saw  Graham 
coming  towards  him.  His  first  thought  was 
one  of  anxiety. 

"  All  right  at  home  ?"  he  called  out  before 
they  met. 

"  All  right  a  few  hours  ago,  when  I  saw 
your  folks,"  was  the  answer. 

Then  the  two  shook  hands. 

"  But  what  in  the  world  has  happened  to 
you,  Graham?  Have  you  chopped  off  some- 
body's head  and  come  to  confess  to  me?" 


196  DALLY 

Winslow,  still  retaining  his  companion's 
hand,  pulled  him  around  so  that  the  light 
fell  more  fully  upon  him.  Graham  met  the 
looks  somewhat  defiantly. 

After  an  instant  he  abruptly  withdrew  his 
hand  and  asked  if  he  could  see  Winslow 
where  there  "wouldn't  be  any  cursed  inter- 
ruptions." 

Winslow's  face  became  very  grave  imme- 
diately. 

"We'll  go  to  my  room,"  he  said;  "  I  don't 
think  any  interruptions  will  get  through  my 
locked  door." 

When  the  two  were  in  the  room,  Winslow 
stood  by  the  mantel  and  watched  his  guest. 
He  did  not  choose  to  hurry  him  by  asking 
questions.  With  every  moment  that  passed 
he  grew  more  and  more  apprehensive,  but 
he  had  no  idea  what  he  feared. 

Winslow  had  grown  to  be  a  tall,  slender 
man  with  a  thin  face,  lighted  by  extremely 
brilliant  and  expressive  eyes.  These  eyes 
were  searching  as  well  as  brilliant.  Perhaps 
his  mouth  was  somewhat  too  full,  but  the 
breadth  of  his  forehead  and  his  thinness  and 
pallor  gave  a  suggestion  of  asceticism. 

Just  at  this  moment   he  might  have  re- 


DALLY  197 

minded  one  of  a  young  monk  as  he  stood 
there  looking  at  the  other  occupant  of  the 
chamber.  Graham  had  sat  down  in  a  chair, 
thrust  out  his  legs,  and  was  now  gazing  at 
his  boots. 

Finally  he  looked  up.  He  smiled,  be- 
cause it  is  rather  a  habit  for  human  beings 
to  smile  when  they  address  each  other. 

"  I  guess  you  begin  to  think  I'm  half 
drunk,"  he  said,  rather  foolishly.  He  al- 
most wished  he  had  not  come.  A  man  al- 
ways lost  ground,  somehow,  if  he  didn't 
keep  things  to  himself.  You  had  to  live 
up  to  a  confidence  some  way. 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  drunk  at  all,"  was 
the  answer. 

Graham  got  upon  his  feet.  He  looked 
fiercely  about  him.  • 

"  It  gives  a  man  a  queer  feeling  to  find 
he's  a  scamp,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  find  you  are  one?" 

Instead  of  replying,  Graham  took  sharp 
hold  of  Winslow's  arm. 

"  Winslow,"  he  said,  "  was  you  ever  in 
love  ?  Don't  you  say  anything  yet !  I 
don't  mean  that  you  liked  a  girl  first-rate 
and  thought  she'd  suit  you.  Had  an  affec- 


198  DALLY 

tion  for  her — prettiest  one  you'd  seen — 
guessed  she'd  make  a  good  wife — thought 
you  loved  her.  I  don't  mean  any  of  that 
rot.  I  mean  this  "^-here  he  unconsciously 
shook  the  arm  he  held — "  Did  you  ever  live 
— sleep  —  eat  —  drink  —  speak  —  in  just  one 
thought — not  know  anything  but  one  feel- 
ing— be  drunk  with  it — long  to  drive  it 
away,  but  yet  wouldn't  give  it  up  on  any 
account  ? — Hug  it — hate  it  ?  Good  God  ! 
Do  you  know  anything  about  what  I 
mean?" 

Graham's  words  stumbled  over  each  other. 
His  eyes  blazed.  His  face  was  red. 

He  dropped  the  arm  he  had  held  and 
stood  with  his  hands  clenched  and  hang- 
ing. 

His  listener  had  become  yet  paler  as  he 
heard,  and  had  compressed  his  lips. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  after  a  long  si- 
lence, "  that  it's  not  so  you  feel  to  my  sis- 
ter." 

"No!  no!"  said  Graham.  "You  see,  I'm 
a  scamp.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I'd  rather 
be  a  scamp  and  be  damned  than  give  up 
this.  I  don't  know  myself.  I  didn't  know 
'twas  in  me." 


DALLY  199 

He  did  not  speak  so  violently  now,  but 
with  bitter  emphasis. 

Winslow  remained  rigidly  quiet  in  his  po- 
sition by  the  mantel. 

"  And  the  woman — "  he  began,  in  a  lower 
voice  than  usual. 

Graham  laughed,  as  men  will  sometimes 
laugh  when  they  would  rather  give  a  cry  of 
anguish. 

"  The  woman  hasn't  got  an  idea  anything 
about  it,"  he  said,  "  so  far's  I  know.  I  haven't 
said  a  word.  Of  course  she  don't  guess." 

"  Of  course  she  does  guess,"  interrupted 
Winslow.  "  Do  you  imagine  you  have  had 
all  this  in  your  heart  and  haven't  revealed 
any  hint  of  it  so  that  she  would  know  ?  Wom- 
en aren't  so  stupid  as  we  are.  What  does 
Marietta  say?" 

"Say?  Do  you  think  anything  has  been 
said?  She  hasn't  a  suspicion,  I  tell  you.  She's 
too  honest,  too  true — 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  turned  away. 
After  a  while  he  added,  in  a  thick  voice : 
"  We're  to  be  married  New  Year's,  you  know." 

Graham  sat  down  now,  and  leaned  both 
arms  on  the  table,  bending  his  forehead  to 
his  hands. 


200  DALLY 

He  had  not  told  who  it  was  who  had  in- 
spired this  madness  in  him.  He  had  not 
been  asked.  He  could  not  recognize  him- 
self. Three  weeks  ago  he  had  been  comfort- 
able and  contented,  and  had  supposed  he 
was  "  in  love  "  with  Marietta. 

How  true  it  is  that  there  is  in  each  human 
being  a  "great  deal  of  unmapped  country" 
of  which  we  have  never  dreamed !  True, 
also,  that  no  temptation,  no  circumstance, 
will  ever  bring  out  that  which  is  not  really 
in  us,  dormant,  but  waiting  the  touch.  And 
many  natures  are  never  half  awakened,  either 
in  evil  or  good. 

Winslow,  at  last,  left  his  position.  He 
walked  silently  about  the  room.  Occasion- 
ally he  touched  a  book  or  a  paper  on  his 
study  table,  not  knowing  that  he  did  so. 
He  read  carefully  a  few  lines  of  memoranda 
he  had  pencilled  on  a  pad,  and  tried  to  know 
what  they  meant. 

He  came  back  to  the  mantel,  and  resumed 
his  attitude  there. 

"Why  did  you  tell  me  this?"  he  inquired, 
rather  coldly. 

Graham  started. 

"Why?"  he  repeated,  blankly. 


DALLY  20i 

"Yes;  why?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  furiously,  "  only  that  I'm 
a  fool  's  well  as  a  knave." 

"You  needn't  be  angry  with  me,"  said 
Winslow.  "  I  mean,  what  is  to  be  the  up- 
shot of  it  all?  Do  you  want  advice  from 
me?" 

"  Nobody  follows  advice ;  but  give  it,  all 
the  same,"  Graham  answered. 

"  You  know  my  sister  is  the  right  kind  of 
stuff,"  said  Winslow. 

"  I  know  it.". 

"  Tell  her  all  about  it.  Put  it  strong,  as 
you  have  to  me.  Do  as  she  says." 

Graham's  eyes  began  to  glow  with  hope 
as  well  as  with  other  emotions. 

"  She'll  tell  me  to  go.  She'll  settle  it  quick," 
he  said.  "  But  "  —  hesitating  —  "  nothing  '11 
clear  me.  It  won't  be  an  easy  thing  to  do." 

"You're  not  in  an  easy  place." 

Something  in  Winslow's  tone  made  Gra- 
ham exclaim : 

"You  think  I'm  weak?  Remember,  no 
soul  but  you  suspects  this." 

After  a  short  time  longer,  during  which 
very  little  more  was  said,  Graham  turned 
towards  the  door.  He  could  hardly  tell 


202  DALLY 

whether  he  had  done  well  in  coming  here. 
He  stood  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  and 
looked  at  his  friend. 

"You  see,"  he  began,  abruptly,  "  Marietta 
loves  her.  She  said  one  thing  about  her  that 
hasn't  been  out  of  my  mind.  She  said, 'If  you 
know  Dally  you  can't  forget  her  a  minute.' 
Odd,  wasn't  it?  But  true  as  death.  You 
can't  forget  her  a  minute.  Anyway,  I  can't. 
And  I've  done  nothing  but  try  since  the  mo- 
ment I  met  her  with  her  hound  on  that  old 
Blake  road.  Marietta  and  I  were  driving 
there  one  Sunday  afternoon,  and  Dally  came 
round  the  corner.  She  had  just  got  back 
from  Mrs.  Lander's  in  New  York.  Mrs.  Lan- 
der has  tried  to  have  the  girl  live  with  her, 
but  Dally  says  she  loves  Mrs.  Jacobs,  and 
loves  the  country  too  well.  That's  queer, 
too.  Most  girls  would  jump  out  of  their 
skins  at  the  chance  that  New  York  woman 
gives  her.  She  isn't  like  any  one  else.  She 
is — but  you  know  her,  of  course,  Winslow." 

"Yes,  I  know  her." 

The  answer  came  promptly.  Presently 
Winslow  added  that  he  had  known  Dally 
since  she  had  first  come  to  Ransom. 

Graham  nodded,     He  was.  feeling  a  reac- 


DALLY  203 

tion  and  a  relief  from  the  mood  which  had 
dominated  him.  A  grateful  sense  of  expan- 
sion came  to  him  since  he  had  spoken  free- 
ly to  Marietta's  brother.  He  would  have 
changed  his  mind  about  going  and  remained 
to  talk  further,  but  Winslow  said  he  had  an 
engagement  at  just  this  coming  hour. 

Graham  set  out  to  walk  back  to  Boston. 
For  some  reason  he  did  not  feel  himself  near- 
ly as  much  of  a  villain  as  when  he  had  driven 
into  town. 


XVI 

THODOR'S  CONFESSION 

JRAHAM  walked  vigorously  back  to 
Boston.  As  he  thought  of  his  inter- 
view with  Winslow,  he  rather  won- 
dered that  his  friend  had  not  seemed  more 
moved.  He  had  expected  more  indignation 
and  more  sympathy. 

"  He's  a  cold-blooded  kind  of  a  fellow,  any- 
way," he  said  to  himself,  with  something  like 
a  feeling  of  pride  that  he  himself  was  not 
cold-blooded ;  he  was  capable  of  being  car- 
ried away  on  the  flood -tide  of  a  passion. 
How  intoxicating,  how  bewitching  it  all  was  ! 
And  what  a  bewildering  zest  the  under-cur- 
rent of  wickedness  gave  !  The  pendulum  of 
his  emotions  was  now  swinging  away  from 
the  agony  of  remorse  which  had  possessed 
him  as  he  drove  into  town. 

He  fell  to  thinking  of  the  few  moments 
when  Dally  had  sat  beside  him  in  the  buggy 
that  morning.  He  had  been  quite  noble,  he 


DALLY  205 

thought,  in  always  restraining  all  hint  of 
what  he  felt,  while  he  was  engaged  to  Mari- 
etta. 

The  complications,  the  different  phases  in 
one  human  being,  are  astounding.  You  might 
have  said  that  Graham  was  a  different  man 
from  that  person  who  had  nearly  killed  his 
horse  by  overdriving  that  morning,  and  in 
whom  temptation  and  remorse  were  fighting. 
But. this  was  only  another  side  of  him. 

He  strolled  round  in  Boston  streets.  He 
looked  in  at  shop-windows.  He  selected  a 
hundred  of  the  richest  things  he  saw,  and 
imagined  himself  presenting  them  to  Dally 
as  insufficient  tokens  of  what  she  had  in- 
spired in  him. 

He  lingered  until  night  came.  Instead  of 
starting  homeward,  he  went  to  a  play,  and 
sat  through  the  whole  of  it,  seeing  Dally  in 
every  face,  and  hearing  her  voice  in  every 
tone.  His  being  off  alone  in  this  way  seemed 
like  some  desperate  measure  which  made  the 
girl  nearer  to  him,  or  like  some  reckless  de- 
bauch which,  for  the  time,  deadened  all  the 
feelings  which  made  him  unhappy. 

When,  a  little  before  midnight,  he  started 
home,  the  colt  went  like  a  sprite  along  the 


206  DALLY 

streets  out  into  the  long,  white  road  which 
stretched  away  into  the  country.  It  was 
good  wheeling.  The  excoriating  northeast 
wind  had  died  away,  the  clouds  had  gone,  and 
the  sky  was  full  of  stars.  The  "  Big  Dipper" 
was  hanging  low  down  at  his  right.  Clear 
and  frosty  and  invigorating  the  night  was. 
There  were  almost  thirty  miles  between  Gra- 
ham and  his  home.  He  would  not  be  there 
before  three,  for  the  colt  could  not  keep  up 
this  gait. 

At  first  the  young  man  dozed  a  little, 
wrapped  up  in  the  corner  of  the  seat.  But 
when  he  was  within  ten  miles  of  Farnham  he 
was  fully  awake,  and  thinking  those  miles 
would  be  very  long.  Houses  and  barns  stood 
lifeless  here  and  there.  Not  a  light,  not  a 
movement.  Sometimes  a  dog's  bark  sounded. 

There  was  a  light,  however,  near  a  long, 
low  hen-house ;  a  place  Graham  knew  very 
well,  and  where  he  often  came  for  finer  breeds 
of  fowl.  The  colt  was  walking.  His  driver 
leaned  far  out  to  look.  In  the  thick  dark- 
ness of  a  clump  of  young  pines  he  stopped 
the  horse,  sprang  out,  and  hitched  him  to  a 
branch. 

There  had  been  a  great  many  fowls  stolen 


DALLY  207 

in  different  places  within  the  last  few  months, 
and  the  Graham  hen-house  had  suffered. 
The  selectmen  of  Ransom  had  sufficiently 
roused  themselves  to  offer  a  reward  of  one 
hundred  dollars  for  the  taking  of  the  thief. 

Graham  went  silently  and  swiftly  forward 
over  the  "  mowing"  towards  the  small  bull's- 
eye  lantern  which  some  one  was  carrying. 
The  light  fell  here  and  there  in  a  confusing 
way. 

Suddenly  the  light  was  extinguished.  Gra- 
ham stood  still,  thinking  he  had  been  seen 
or  heard.  No.  Presently  he  heard  footsteps 
coming  towards  him,  and  his  eyes  had  now 
adjusted  themselves  to  the  dusky  starlight. 

There  was  somebody,  with  a  bag  swung 
over  his  back  making  for  the  road.  The  fig- 
ure came  straight  ahead. 

Graham  stepped  forward,  and  put  a  heavy 
hand  on  the  shoulder  nearest  him. 

"  Hullo,  old  cove!  I  guess  I've  got  ye," 
Graham  said. 

Then  he  shrank  a  little,  but  he  did  not  let 
go  his  hold.  The  figure  remained  perfectly 
quiet,  with  that  stolid  effect  as  if  it  were  a 
lump  of  wood. 

It  was  Barker. 


208  DALLY 

Graham  could  have  sworn  at  himself  for 
his  folly  in  trying  to  catch  this  creature.  But 
how  was  he  to  know  that  it  was  Daily's  broth- 
er who  was  thieving  ? 

If  Barker  were  going  to  carry  on  this  busi- 
ness, he  (Graham)  would  far  rather  be  igno- 
rant of  it. 

"  So  it's  you,  is  it,  confound  you  !"  he 
cried,  shaking  the  shoulder  he  held.  "  Take 
back  your  chickens  'n'  ride  home  with 
me." 

He  began  pushing  Barker  ahead  of  him. 
That  person  writhed  somewhat,  and  said, 
sullenly: 

"  I  kin  walk  home." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  you  sha'n't  walk.  You've 
got  to  empty  that  bag  and  come  along." 

The  youth  writhed  again,  but  he  perceived 
that  it  would  be  useless  to  resist.  He  had 
to  leave  the  fowls.  He  also  had  to  get  into 
the  buggy  and  sit  beside  Graham,  whose  fin- 
gers tingled  to  thrash  him,  and  who  was  also 
conscious  of  a  strange  mixture  of  tenderness 
and  pity,  for  the  sole  reason  that  this  thief 
was  Daily's  brother.  He  resented  this  feel- 
ing, but  he  could  not  get  rid  of  it. 

"So  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  said  again,  after 


DALLY  2Og 

they  had  driven  half  a  mile.     "You  know 
where  our  hens  and  turkeys  go?" 

Barker  grunted.  This  was  the  first  time 
he  had  come  upon  any  real  obstacle  in  his 
career.  He  did  not  appear  to  have  mind 
enough  to  be  sly,  but  still  he  was  as  cunning 
as  any  beast  which  is  bent  upon  having  its 
own  way.  He  was  dully  furious  now.  But 
he  sat  bent  forward,  and  did  not  look  at  his 
companion.  It  was  curious  what  an  infuri- 
ating effect  this  vicious  inertness,  which  was 
one  of  Barker's  characteristics,  often  had 
upon  one  thrown  in  contact  with  him. 

For  a  moment  Graham  believed  he  could 
not  resist  the  impulse  to  fling  the  vermin 
out  over  the  wheel.  He  heartily  wished  he 
had  not  stopped  when  he  saw  that  lantern 
light. 

"  I  asked  if  it's  you  that's  been  stealing," 
repeated  Graham,  violently. 

"  Do  you-uns  reckon  's  I'm  er  gwine  ter 
tell  ?"  at  last  responded  Barker,  hitching 
somewhat  on  his  seat. 

Graham  tried  to  restrain  the  manifestation 
of  his  annoyance.      He  thought  he  would 
have  given  a  great  many  dollars  if  Barker 
had  been  nothing  to  that  girl. 
14 


210  DALLY 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  don't  reckon  you're 
going  to  tell." 

Nothing  more  was  said  until  they  had 
reached  a  point  nearest  the  Dodson  farm. 
Here  Graham  stopped  his  horse,  and  told 
his  passenger  to  get  out.  Barker  did  not 
stir,  save  to  raise  his  head  and  turn  his  eyes 
towards  the  young  man's  face.  It  was  too 
dark  to  see  very  plainly. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  roughly  asked 
Graham. 

"  I  war  jest  er  gwine  ter  say  as  Dally  'd 
feel  mighty  bad  if  yo'  should  be  gwine  ter 
tell  er  this." 

Graham  felt  sick.  He  swore  at  the  thing 
near  him. 

"Get  out, you  wretch !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Of 
course  I  sha'n't  tell." 

Barker  climbed  out.  He  grasped  the  wheel 
when  he  stood  on  the  ground. 

"  I  mout  er  known  yo'  wouldn't  tell,"  he 
said,  "  'cos  of  Dally,  yo'  know." 

He  walked  away. 

"  Look  out,  or  you'll  get  hauled  up  by 
somebody  that  will  tell  I"  shouted  Graham 
after  him.  Then  he  whipped  his  horse 
that  he  might  the  faster  put  space  between 


DALLY  211 

him  and  Barker,  who  trudged  on  with  his 
empty  bag,  a  fire  of  hatred  and  revenge 
smouldering  in  his  darkened  consciousness. 
He  was  shrewd  enough  to  be  sure  that  this 
meeting  would  not  lead  to  discovery.  But 
he  resented  it  all  the  same.  He  had  been 
made  to  take  back  his  plunder.  He  was 
making  a  little  hoard  of  money.  He  knew 
where  to  dispose  of  his  stolen  fowls,  It  was 
a  secret  satisfaction  to  him  as  he  slouched 
about  the  Dodson  farm  to  know  all  the  time 
that  he  had  a  bag  of  money  hidden  in  the 
barn-cellar ;  and  to  know,  also,  that  he  had 
never  been  caught  in  his  thefts.  He  gloated 
over  the  money  and  the  way  he  got  it.  He 
bore  Mrs.  Dodson's  constant  scoldings  in 
dumbness.  Nevertheless,  as  he  often  told 
himself,  he  meant  to  pay  that  woman  off.  It 
suited  him  to  stay  there  far  better  than  it 
had  suited  him  at  Mrs.  Jacobs's.  He  never 
went  near  the  widow's.  Dally  came  to  see 
him.  He  wondered  why  she  would  come. 
He  was  in  a  good  many  places  unsuspected  ; 
he  saw  a  good  many  things  which  one  would 
not  have  dreamed  he  saw.  Meanwhile  he 
did  enough  work  for  the  Dodsons  to  be  sure 
of  staying  there  as  long  as  he  pleased  ;  par- 


212  DALLY 

ticularly  as  he  never  asked  for  any  wages  or 
for  any  more  clothes  than  they  gave  him. 
Mrs.  Dodson  believed  she  controlled  him, 
and  he  was  willing  she  should  continue  in 
that  belief. 

The  rest  of  the  week  went  by,  and  Mari- 
etta began  to  wonder  why  Thodor  did  not 
call.  She  had  not  seen  him  since  the  day 
he  had  stopped  on  his  way  to  Boston. 

Mrs.  Winslow  made  herself  agreeable  by 
frequently  remarking  that  no  young  man 
would  ever  have  dared  to  slight  her  so ;  and 
she  wondered  if  Thodor  had  given  them 
things  to  William.  It  would  be  jest  like 
him  if  he  hadn't  thought  a  word  of  it.  If 
William  took  his  death-a-cold  for  lack  of  them 
flannels,  it  would  be  Thodor's  fault. 

Mr.  Winslow  made  things  worse  by  advis- 
ing his  wife  not  to  fret.  He  s'posed  Thodor 
was  busy.  Upon  this  he  was  asked  if  he 
enjoyed  seeing  his  only  daughter  slighted, 
and  his  son  likely  's  not  having  pneumonia. 
As  for  her  part,  she  had  some  feelin' ;  she 
had  a  mother's  heart. 

At  this  stage  of  the  discourse  Mr.  Wins- 
low  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  say,  "  Oh, 
Lord !"  Then  Marietta  looked  reproach- 


DALLY  213 

fully  at  him,  and  pressed  his  foot  under  the 
table  as  she  passed  him  the  hot  biscuit.  He 
dejectedly  took  a  biscuit.  Marietta  said 
briskly  that  for  her  part  she  wasn't  worried 
one  grain  about  Thodor.  She  guessed  he'd 
turn  up  all  right.  If  he  didn't,  they'd  all 
try  to  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Winslow  now  announced  that  if  Mari- 
etta could  bear  the  disgrace  of  gittin'  the 
mitten  from  her  beau,  and  she  er  fixin',  why, 
her  mother  couldn't.  And  she  began  to  eat 
crusts  with  marked  ostentation — a  sure  sign 
of  a  serious  storm  brewing. 

Marietta  followed  her  father  to  the  wood- 
house  after  supper  to  tell  him  that  if  Thodor 
let  another  day  go  by  without  calling,  she 
should  have  to  send  for  him,  just  to  pacify 
mar. 

Mr.  Winslow  leaned  on  his  axe  and  looked 
at  the  girl. 

"  There  ain't  nothin'  amiss  between  you 
'n'  him,  is  there?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  thing,"  she  answered.  "  It's  often 
been  as  long  as  this  without  his  coming." 

Her  father  shook  his  head.  "  We  couldn't 
live  here  with  yer  mar,"  he  said,  emphati- 
cally, "  not  if  Thodor  stopped  coming." 


214  DALLY 

Marietta  laughed.  Nevertheless  she  was 
glad  when,  in  the  evening,  she  heard  the 
well-known  trot  of  the  colt.  Mrs.  Winslow 
heard  it,  too.  She  rose  from  where  she  was 
stringing  apples  to  dry,  and  said  she  would 
immediately  light  a  fire  in  the  air-tight.  This 
fire  in  the  air-tight  in  the  sitting-room  was 
always  ignited  in  honor  of  Graham.  If  Mrs. 
Winslow  had  not  approved  of  him,  her  fam- 
ily felt  that  it  would  have  been  almost  im- 
possible to  have  had  that  fire. 

Now,  by  the  time  the  young  man  had  put 
his  horse  in  the  barn  and  tucked  the  blanket 
on  him,  the  sheet-iron  stove  was  almost  red 
hot. 

Marietta  greeted  him  as  usual.  When  he 
came  forward  into  the  light,  and  had  taken 
off  his  great-coat,  she  asked  him  if  he  had 
been  sick.  He  looked  so.  Had  anything 
happened  ? 

He  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  His 
face  was  careworn  and  resolved.  He  took 
Marietta's  hands  and  drew  her  nearer. 

"  When  I  was  here  last  I  made  up  my 
mind  I  would  not  come  again  until  I  could 
tell  you  something  that's  on  my  conscience 
that  you  ought  to  know.  I  thought  I  should 


DALLY 


215 


see  you  the  next  day  after  I'd  been  to  Bos- 
ton, but  I  couldn't  quite  do  it.  You  see,  I 
hung  back  like  a  coward." 

He  felt  the  girl  stiffen  a  little  as  she  lis- 
tened. But  she  kept  her  honest  eyes  on  his 
face  while  he  spoke. 

"  If  it's  something  I  ought  to  know,  tell 
me  right  away,"  she  said. 

He  hesitated.  It  is  hard  to  tell  a  woman 
who  expects  to  be  your  wife  that  you  love 
some  one  else  better. 

She  saw  the  intensity  of  his  unhappiness, 
and  she  also  became  pale. 

"  Can  I  help  you  any  ?"  she  asked. 

"How  can  any  one  help  me?"  he  cried. 
"  I  am  dishonest !  I  love  some  one  else.  I 
could  not  help  it.  It  sprang  on  me  like  a 
wild  beast !  It  would  have  me  !  Don't  think 
I  yielded  without  a  struggle  !" 

He  still  kept  fast  hold  of  her  hands,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  stand  there  before  him. 
She  was  now  quite  white.  It  was  a  moment 
before  she  said : 

"  It  is  Dally." 

"  It  is  Dally,"  he  repeated,  with  a  great 
gentleness. 

Marietta  succeeded  in  releasing  her  hands. 


216  DALLY 

She  clasped  them  together.  She  recalled 
with  a  piercing  thrill  the  expression  that  had 
been  in  Daily's  eyes  that  morning  when  Gra- 
ham had  gone  to  Boston.  Not  one  shadow 
of  suspicion  concerning  her  friend  crossed 
Marietta's  loyal  heart.  But  perhaps  Dally 
loved  Graham — perhaps — Marietta  tried  to 
shut  her  mind  to  all  suppositions. 

"You  blame  me?"  humbly  said  Graham. 

His  companion  now  looked  fully  at  him. 
But  her  voice,  when  she  spoke,  was  not  as 
steady  as  her  glance. 

"  Blame  you — or  any  one — for  loving  Dal- 
ly?" she  said.  "Oh,  no!  How  could  you 
help  it?  How  could  you  help  it?  Oh,  I 
love  her  so  much  myself!" 

She  turned  away  and  sat  down,  covering 
her  face  with  her  hands.  Mingled  with  her 
own  personal  emotions  was  a  wild  thought 
of  her  brother.  What  did  he  now  think  of 
Dally?  He  had  never  told  her.  She  did 
not  know  but  that  he  had  forgotten  her  since 
he  had  been  at  college.  She  was  sure  that, 
as  a  boy,  he  had  a  strong  affection  for  her. 
But  boys  change  so.  She  had  sometimes 
fancied  he  had  seen  some  one  else ;  she  had 
never  had  his  confidence  in  this  direction. 


DALLY  217 

He  would  not  have  told  any  one.  Always, 
when  he  came  home,  he  visited  Dally.  But 
that  went  for  nothing,  for  they  were  old 
friends.  That  fact  did  not  make  against  his 
having  forgotten  her  in  the  sense  Marietta 
had  in  mind. 

She  tried  to  think  clearly.  It  was  all  over 
now  between  herself  and  Thodor.  That  was 
clear  enough. 


XVII 

THE   TWO   GIRLS 

'IMPS  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Winslow 
the  next  morning  at  breakfast — 
"  simps  to  me  Thodor  didn't  stay's 
long's  usual  last  night,  Marietta.  I  heerd 
him  git  out  his  hoss  'n'  go  away.  I  didn't 
sleep  a  wink  myself,  anyhow." 

Mrs.  Winslow  was  not  now  eating  crusts, 
but  partaking  freely  of  the  best  there  was 
on  the  table.  The  fact  that  her  daughter's 
beau  had  resumed  his  visits  in  some  myste- 
rious way  released  her  from  the  necessity  of 
chewing  crusts  for  nourishment. 

Marietta  did  not  reply.  She  industriously 
and  silently  stirred  her  coffee.  Her  father 
looked  at  her  anxiously.  He  tried  to  re- 
strain any  comments  until  he  and  she  should 
be  in  the  wood-house. 

"  I  didn't  sleep  a  wink  myself,"  repeated 
Mrs.  Winslow,  in  an  aggressive  tone.  The 
inference  to  be  drawn  from  her  manner  was 


DALLY  2ig 

that  if  Mr.  Graham  had  made  a  visit  of  the 
customary  length,  she  should  have  enjoyed 
her  customary  repose. 

"  I  wish  you'd  pass  me  the  bacon,"  said 
Mr.  Winslow,  in  a  melancholy  voice. 

His  wife  passed  him  the  bacon.  As  she 
set  the  dish  down  rather  emphatically  on 
the  table  again,  she  remarked  that  "  Mari- 
etta didn't  look's  if  she'd  slept  a  wink, 
nuther." 

The  girl  flushed  sensitively  as  she  protest- 
ed that  she  was  as  well  as  she  had  ever  been 
in  her  life.  Again  her  father  looked  at  her, 
and  again  he  wished  they  were  in  the  wood- 
house,  so  that  he  might  try  to  comfort  her 
if  she  were  in  trouble. 

No  one  noticed  the  proclamation  of  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Winslow  had  not  slept.  She 
was  in  the  habit  of  asserting  that  she  had 
not  closed  her  eyes  during  all  the  dark  hours. 
Mr.  Winslow  had  been  known  to  make  the 
counter-assertion  that  "  at  any  rate,  she  had 
snored  awfully."  But  he  was  always  sorry 
when  he  had  been  so  indiscreet. 

When  they  rose  from  the  table,  instead 
of  beginning  to  gather  the  dishes  together, 
as  was  her  custom,  Marietta  said  she  was 


220  DALLY 

going  to  run  over  and  see  Dally  a  few  min- 
utes. She  did  not  ask  permission.  She 
quickly  put  on  a  jacket  and  hat. 

Her  mother  stared  in  astonishment.  She 
said  :  "  The  work  wa'n't  done  up  yet." 

"  Let  the  work  stand,"  said  Marietta,  and 
walked  out  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Winslow  told  her  husband  that  "  she 
didn't  know  what  she'd  done  to  have  such  a 
gal's  that ;  Marietta  was  jest  like  her  father. 
But  William  took  after  his  mother's  side  of 
the  house." 

As  soon  as  he  dared,  Mr.  Winslow  went 
to  the  barn.  He  saw  his  girl  walking  rapidly 
across  the  upland  pasture  through  which  a 
path  led  "  across"  to  Mrs.  Jacobs's  house. 
She  was  almost  running. 

The  man  watched  her  until  she  had  reached 
the  ridge  and  disappeared  below  it. 

He  turned  heavily  towards  the  barn. 

"  It's  goin'  to  be  awful  tough  here  when 
she's  married,"  he  said,  in  a  loud  whisper. 
"  I  d'  know  how  I'm  goin'  to  stan'  it." 

Marietta  actually  broke  into  a  run  as  she 
went  down  the  slope.  The  brown  sweet- 
fern,  which  she  crushed  beneath  her  feet, 
sent  up  its  odor;  the  juniper  bushes  gave 


DALLY  •    221 

forth  their  perfume,  which  always  made  the 
girl  think  of  the  old  gin-bottle  in  the  kitchen 
closet,  although  she  did  not  know  that  juni- 
per berries  were  ever  put  into  gin.  It  was 
yet  too  early  in  the  morning  for  the  late 
October  mist  to  have  left  the  meadows  and 
low  places,  but  the  sun  was  shining  through 
it,  and  it  was  growing  less  and  less  dense. 
The  crows  were  flying — "  flying  to  the  left," 
thought  the  girl,  recalling  the  saying  that 
when  crows  fly  to  the  left  it  is  a  sign  of  bad 
luck.  The  chickadees  were  calling.  Mari- 
etta had  a  dim  sense  that  the  world  was 
lovely  and  full  of  promise. 

When  she  had  started  she  felt  that  she 
could  not  reach  her  destination  quickly 
enough.  Now,  when  she  saw  the  roof  of  the 
widow's  house,  she  began  to  move  more 
slowly.  She  was  panting.  Her  mind  was 
confused.  She  wondered  what  she  should 
say  to  Dally.  Though  she  had  hastened, 
now  she  shrank. 

She  leaned  against  a  chestnut-tree  and 
tried  to  become  composed.  Her  heart  was 
very  sore.  She  wished  she  might  see  Bill  a 
few  moments.  It  might  be  a  comfort  to  see 
him.  If  her  mother  were  only  different! 


222  DALLY 

But,  as  her  father  so  often  said,  her  mother 
"  was  jes'  's  she  was." 

As  Marietta  stood  thus,  she  saw  Dally  and 
the  hound  come  round  from  the  back  of  the 
house.  Dally  had  no  covering  for  her  head. 
She  had  evidently  come  out  for  a  moment 
to  look  about  over  the  hills,  and  see  the  mist 
and  the  sunlight.  Her  hair  was  loosely  fas- 
tened, as  usual.  The  morning  light  shone 
on  it  and  made  it  radiant.  Marietta  was 
near  enough  to  see  her  friend's  face,  and  the 
sight  of  it  gave  her  heart  that  throb  of  almost 
impassioned  tenderness  which  was  so  ready 
to  be  awakened  by  this  presence. 

Did  Dally  guess  what  she  had  always  been 
to  Marietta?  The  New  England  girl's  life 
had  been  in  a  measure  restricted  and  meagre. 
She  turned  thirstily  from  the  very  first  to 
Dally,  who  suggested  vividly  the  dreams 
and  the  enchantment  which  are  the  birth- 
right of  youth,  though  the  youth  of  many  is 
so  austere  as  to  be  deprived  of  such  romance. 

No  one  else  had  ever  caressed  Marietta  as 
Dally  had  done,  and  Marietta  felt  that  she 
could  have  received  such  caresses  from  no 
one  else.  For  her  they  were  a  part  of  Daily's 
personality. 


DALLY  223 

Now,  as  she  looked  down  at  the  girl  and 
her  dog,  in  the  bitterness  that  was  natural 
in  such  a  position  as  hers,  there  was  still  her 
love  for  Dally.  But  there  was  bitterness. 
Why  had  such  a  thing  happened  to  her? 
She  had  looked  forward  with  satisfaction 
and  happiness  to  a  home  with  Graham.  She 
should  make  him  an  excellent  wife;  they 
would  have  a  pleasant  home ;  the  arrange- 
ment was  precisely  right  in  every  way.  But 
now  she  was  rejected,  and  rejected  because 
of  that  girl  who  was  standing  there  with  the 
October  sunlight  on  her,  with  the  dog  who 
seemed  so  joyous  just  to  be  with  her. 

If  it  had  not  been  a  grand  passion  she  felt 
for  her  lover,  Marietta  was  convinced  that  it 
was  something  which  justified  her  in  thinking 
of  marriage  with  him.  She  must  bear  that 
disappointment,  besides  the  wound  to  her 
vanity,  and  it  is  surprising  how  deep  a  hurt 
one  may  receive  simply  through  one's  vanity. 

When  Dally  had  gone  into  the  house,  Mari- 
etta slowly  climbed  the  wall  and  crossed  the 
road.  Sam,  who  had  remained  outside,  gave 
a  bark  of  welcome.  Immediately  the  porch 
door  was  opened  by  the  Widder  'Bijah,  who 
had  grown  a  little  heavier  and  her  hair  a  little 


224  DALLY 

thinner  in  the  passing  years.  But  she  looked 
happier  than  she  had  ever  looked.  She  had 
gradually  increased  her  monthly  contribution 
to  foreign  missions.  She  bought  more  tick- 
ets for  all  the  entertainments  to  raise  money 
to  get  the  church  painted  or  to  procure  a 
new  organ.  She  had  paupers,  who  thought 
they  needed  a  change  from  the  poorhouse, 
to  stop  with  her  for  a  week  at  a  time,  oftener 
than  used  to  be  her  custom.  Children  found 
her  even  more  generous  with  cookies  and 
apples  than  in  former  times. 

"  If  I  can't  do  a  hand's  turn  for  anybody," 
she  said,  "  I  must  be  a  ruther  mean  specimen. 
I've  been  blessed  mightily." 

She  would  look  at  Dally  as  she  said  this, 
and  Daily's  glance  in  return  repaid  for  all. 

The  widow  had  not  been  called  upon  to 
endure  the  trial  of  seeing  Dally  taken  to 
New  York  by  Mrs.  Lander,  and  so  being  lost 
to  her  country  home.  Mrs.  Lander  had  tried 
to  take  her,  but  Dally  had  resisted  so  strenu- 
ously that  the  lady  could  not  have  her  way 
in  this. 

Two  or  three  times,  when  Mrs.  Lander  had 
been  in  feeble  health,  the  girl  had  stayed 
with  her  for  several  months,  and  had  not  yet 


DALLY 


225 


outgrown  the  charm  which  this  woman 
always  exercised  over  her.  But  there  was 
something  of  the  savage  in  the  Southern  girl, 
something  which  was  fretted  and  chafed  by 
what  seemed  to  her  the  imprisonment  of  life 
in  a  city,  and  her  love  and  gratitude  to  Mrs. 
Jacobs  clamored  for  her  return  to  her  home. 
No  other  place  was  home  to  her.  The  sim- 
plicity and  singleness  of  her  nature  made  it 
impossible  for  any  roots  to  strike  into  other 
soil. 

Marietta  entered  the  kitchen,  which 
seemed  very  warm  to  her  after  her  run 
across  the  pasture.  The  room  also  had  a 
strong  odor  of  coffee  and  sausages.  In  a 
corner  by  the  cook-stove  sat  an  old  woman, 
whose  head  trembled  all  the  time,  and  who, 
when  she  inquired  after  the  girl's  mother, 
laughed  a  good  deal.  She  laughed  a  good 
deal  every  time  she  made  any  remarks ;  and 
as  she  made  remarks  almost  constantly,  she 
was  a  very  confusing  member  of  a  family 
circle.  This  was  "Old  Aunt  Judson," whose 
habitual  dwelling  was  the  almshouse,  but 
who  was  now  in  the  second  week  of  a  visit 
to  the  widow. 

After  she  had  asked  for  Mrs.  Winslow  she 
15 


226  DALLY 

gave  a  more  than  usually  significant  giggle, 
and  said  she  "  s'posed  Marietty  hadn't  got 
through  fixin'  yet." 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  Marietta,  and  hurried- 
ly turned  to  ask  for  Dally. 

But  old  Aunt  Judson  went  on  to  say  that 
she  considered  that  Marietta  "  had  got  one 
er  the  best  ketches  anywheres  about."  She 
counselled  her  "to  hold  on  to  him."  She 
began  to  enter  garrulously  into  a  descrip- 
tion, garnished  by  much  laughter,  of  what  a 
"ketch"  Joe  Judson  had  been  considered 
when  she  married  him,  "  more'n  fifty  year 
ago." 

What  with  laughing  and  trembling  and 
eagerness  to  talk  about  "  beaux,"  this  pau- 
per gave  Marietta  a  feeling  that  she  must 
turn  and  run  out  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  opened  a  door  into  "a 
chamber-way  "  and  called  "  Dally !"  up  the 
stairs,  and  the  girl  appeared  almost  imme- 
diately. 

She  glanced  at  Marietta,  then  said  she 
must  come  to  her  room,  she  was  just  mak- 
ing her  bed. 

Once  in  the  room,  with  the  door  shut  be- 
hind them,  Dally  led  Marietta  to  a  quaintly- 


DALLY  227 

draped  "  barrel  chair  "  by  the  window,  and 
as  her  guest  sat  down  in  it,  Dally  knelt  at 
her  side. 

Marietta  suddenly  bent  her  head  forward 
on  her  friend's  shoulder  and  exclaimed  : 

"  He  told  me  last  night !"  Daily's  eyes 
seemed  to  suffuse,  not  with  tears,  but  with 
some  sharp  emotion.  She  became  red,  then 
white. 

She  did  not  ask  what  he  had  told.  She 
sat  quite  still,  pressing  Marietta's  head  to 
her  shoulder  and  resting  her  cheek  on  her 
hair. 

"  He  was  there  two  hours.  He  never 
talked  of  anything  but  you." 

Marietta's  voice  was  muffled  by  her  posi- 
tion. After  a  moment  she  said  : 

"  Did  you  know  it  ?" 

Dally  replied  with  characteristic  direct- 
ness and  truth : 

"  Something  in  his  manner  made  me  guess 
it.  I  do  not  think  he  meant  me  to  know  it." 

"You  had  guessed  it  that  morning  you 
came  for  quinces,  and  he  had  brought  you 
part  way?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  were  troubled  ?" 


228  DALLY 

"  Yes." 

"  I  remember  how  you  looked  at  me," 
said  Marietta,  more  excitedly.  "  I  kept 
wondering  what  that  look  meant.  You 
were  sorry  for  me?" 

"Yes;  and  for  him,  too." 

"  For  him  ?  Oh,  yes,  of  course  you  were 
sorry  for  him !" 

Marietta  was  yet  more  excited.  She 
raised  her  head.  She  kissed  Dally  vehe- 
mently. 

"  I  wouldn't  misjudge  you  for  all  the 
world !"  she  cried,  and  clung  faster  to  Dally, 
who,  though  capable  of  much  deeper  and 
more  violent  emotion,  did  not  yield  herself 
up  so  readily. 

There  had  been  but  one  resolve  clear  in 
Marietta's  mind  when  she  had  started  out 
this  morning.  That  resolve  was  to  ask  Dal- 
ly if  she  loved  Graham.  But  now  she  found 
it  impossible  to  put  the  question.  Daily's 
nature  was  as  pellucid  as  the  clearest  lake, 
but  yet  Marietta  could  form  no  guess  upon 
this  subject.  It  was  natural,  however,  for 
her  to  think  that  she  did,  or  would,  return 
Graham's  overwhelming  passion.  And  how 
she  would  love  !  Thus  Marietta  thought  as 


DALLY 


229 


she  sat  looking  at  her  friend,  who  was  still 
on  her  knees  beside  her,  holding  her  hands 
closely  with  the  touch  and  the  tender  grip 
of  one  who  has  the  wish  and  the  power  to 
comfort. 

And  Marietta  was  comforted,  though  not 
through  any  spoken  words.  She  could  not 
help  thinking  how  strange  it  was  that  the 
girl  Avho  had  supplanted  her  in  her  lover's 
heart  was  the  one  to  whom  she  should  look 
for  sympathy  and  strength. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without 
you,"  she  said,  with  a  sob.  "  Mar's  worse 
'n'  nothing,  and  I  can't  go  to  par  in  this  kind 
of  trouble,  somehow.  He'd  pitch  into  Tho- 
dor  horrid,  and  I  don't  blame  Thodor.  'Tain't 
in  me  to  blame  any  one  for  loving  you.  But 
it's  all  awful.  And  only  think,  he  went  to 
see  Bill  and  told  him  all  about  how  it  was." 

A  kind  of  vibration  passed  through  Dally, 
but  her  gaze  did  not  flinch. 

"  Bill  told  him  to  come  and  tell  me.  He 
said  I  was  the  right  kind  of  stuff,  and  would 
do  right  about  it.  Bill  always  did  believe  in 
me,"  with  a  forlorn  kind  of  pride.  "And  I 
hope  I  shall  do  right.  Thodor  offered  to 
stick  by  our  engagement  and  try  to  get  the 


230  DALLY 

better  of — of  this  love  for  you,  but  I  wouldn't 
have  that.  No,  indeed  ;  I  guess  I  wouldn't. 
He's  just  as  free  as  if  he'd  never  met  me." 

Marietta  felt  her  lips  suddenly  closed  by 
a  tremulous  and  lingering  kiss.  To  her  sur- 
prise she  felt  tears  on  Daily's  face. 

"  He  isn't  worthy  of  you,"  whispered  Dai- 
Marietta  stayed  another  half-hour  in  the 
little  chamber.  But  very  few  words  were 
said.  Sometimes  Daily's  hand  stroked  her 
friend's  face  softly.  It  was  inexpressible 
comfort  to  Marietta  to  look  long  in  Daily's 
eyes.  Those  eyes  were  at  once  so  soft  and 
strong.  Above  all,  they  were  sympathetic. 

When  Marietta  went  down  into  the  kitch- 
en again,  old  Aunt  Judson  roused  from  a  nap 
and  called  quaveringly  after  her  "  to  be  sure 
'n'  hold  on  to  her  beau." 

Marietta  tried  not  to  slam  the  door.  As 
she  was  shutting  it  the  old  voice  could  be 
heard  saying,  shrilly, 

"You  won't  find  no  such  ketch  nowhars 
else." 


XVIII 

MRS.  WINSLOW'S   NEMESIS 

IR.  PETER  WINSLOW  knew  where- 
of he  spoke  when  he  said  to  Marietta 
that  "  they  couldn't  live  with  mar  if 
Thodor  should  stop  comin'  there." 

And  now  Thodor  had  stopped. 

At  first  Mrs.  Winslow  maintained  a  silence 
on  the  subject.  She  kept  saying  that  Mari- 
etta was  "  jest  like  her  father  V  his  folks, 
but  William  was  jest  like  her." 

Although  such  remarks  did  not  apparently 
refer  to  the  discontinuance  of  Graham's  vis- 
its, yet  Marietta  and  her  father  knew  they 
were  inspired  by  that  fact. 

The  girl  took  the  first  opportunity  to  con- 
fide, of  course  within  the  precincts  of  the 
wood-house,  to  her  father  that  she  and  Tho- 
dor had  both  thought  it  was  best  to  break 
off  the  engagement. 

Mr.  Winslow  was  greatly  prostrated  by 
this  intelligence.  He  did  not  want  his  daugh- 


232  DALLY 

ter  to  be  married,  but  he  would  have  liked 
an  arrangement  whereby  she  might  be  con- 
tinually courted  by  Thodor,  so  that  Mrs. 
Winslow  might  be  kept  in  a  good  humor. 

He  sat  down  on  the  chopping-block  as  if 
he  had  no  strength  to  keep  upon  his  feet. 
Marietta  was  standing  by  the  door,  with  the 
same  square  of  blanket  on  her  head  that  she 
had  worn  as  a  child.  Her  father  looked  in 
a  bewildered  manner  at  her. 

"Does  your  mar  know?"  he  asked. 
When   he    heard    the    answer    "  no,"    he 
groaned  aloud. 

"Who's  goin'  to  tell  her?" 
Marietta  said  that  she  had  been  thinking 
they  might  get  Bill  to  tell  her.  She  was  try- 
ing to  write  to  Bill.  She  thought  he  could 
fix  mar  somehow.  He  always  had,  and  she 
guessed  he  always  would. 

This  reference  to  young  Winslow  seemed 
to  give  some  comfort  to  both  father  and 
daughter.  Mr.  Winslow  was  presently  able 
to  get  off  of  the  block  and  begin  to  chop 
some  "  trash."  He  expressed  the  hope  that 
"  p'r'aps  'twas  only  a  quarrel,  and  they'd 
make  it  up  between  um." 

But  Marietta  firmly  combated  that  idea. 


DALLY 


233 


She  said  "  they  wa'n't  neither  of  um  to 
blame ;  but  they'd  concluded  the  engage- 
ment would  be  better  broke  than  kept." 

Mr.  Winslow  tried  to  accept  this  as  final. 
But  he  went  round  in  such  a  very  visible 
state  of  mental  confusion  that  at  the  dinner- 
table  that  very  day  his  wife  made  the  inter- 
cession of  Bill  superfluous. 

She  said  she  knew  something  was  in  the 
wind.  She  never  knew  her  husband  to  look 
quite  so  much  like  a  fool  as  he  did  at  this 
present  moment.  And  Marietta  didn't  look 
much  brighter.  She  laid  down  the  knife 
with  which  she  had  been  conveying  squash- 
pie  to  her  mouth.  The  manner  in  which 
she  relinquished  this  implement  made  her 
hearers  know  that  the  onslaught  was  to  be 
fierce  and,  possibly,  prolonged. 

Marietta  made  a  sudden  resolve. 

Her  mother  went  on  to  assert  that  she  be- 
lieved that  what  was  in  the  wind  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  Thodor  Graham  and  "  that 

o 

gal  there,"  pointing  a  slice  of  brown  bread 
at  Marietta. 

It  was  then  that  Marietta  acted  upon  her 
resolve.  She  felt  herself  becoming  rigid,  but 
she  was  determined. 


234  DALLY 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  Thodor  'n'  I've  brok- 
en it  all  off.  We've  made  up  our  minds  to 
be  jest  friends." 

This  was  so  much  worse  than  Mrs.  Wins- 
low  had  imagined,  that  she  in  her  turn  began 
to  be  rigid. 

It  was  several  moments  before  she  was 
able  to  speak. 

She  placed  the  brown  bread  beside  her 
knife.  She  pushed  back  from  the  table.  She 
looked  over  at  her  husband,  who  would  not 
look  at  her. 

"  Mr.  Winslow,"  she  said,  "  was  you  know- 
in'  to  this?" 

"  Not  until  she  told  me,"  jerking  his  head 
towards  his  daughter,  but  not  raising  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  the  cause  ?" 

"  Only  what  she  said." 

The  woman  now  discarded  her  chair  en- 
tirely. She  looked  very  large  in  body  as  she 
stood  there. 

"  Well,"  she  cried,  "  I  know !  I  know  the 
reason  !  I  ain't  er  born  fool,  even  if  I  did 
marry  one.  It's  that  Caroliny  gal !  She's 
the  root  of  it.  Oh,  the  sly  one  !  She's 
ben  settin'  her  cap,  I'll  bet  a  million  dollars. 
'N'  Thodor's  ben  caught.  I  don't  say  I've 


DALLY 


235 


seen  her  at  it.  She's  too  sly.  But  she  done 
it !  She  done  it !  I'm  goin'  right  over  there 
this  very  instant." 

Marietta  bounded  from  her  own  seat.  She 
was  terrified  at  this  random  guess  of  her 
mother.  But  she  knew  that  if  a  burglary 
had  been  reported  it  was  likely  her  mother 
would  have  maintained  the  probability  that 
Dally  had  perpetrated  the  crime. 

The  girl  sprang  at  the  elder  woman  and 
caught  hold  of  her  arm. 

"  You're  crazy !"  she  cried ;  "  you  sha'n't  go !" 

Mrs.  Winslow  thrust  her  child  aside.  She 
was  furious  that  young  Graham  had  been 
lost.  Of  course  he  had  been  the  one  to 
break  the  engagement.  No  girl  in  her  senses 
would  have  let  such  a  "  feller  "  go. 

"  I  ain't  crazy  one  grain,"  she  answered. 
"  I  know  what  I'm  about,  if  there  ain't  any- 
body else  does.  Marietta  Winslow,  how  c'n 
you  stand  there  'n'  hold  your  head  up?" 

She  turned,  and  hastened  into  her  bed- 
room, where  she  threw  a  blanket  shawl  over 
her  shoulders.  She  emerged  from  the  room 
in  the  act  of  putting  a  long  white  cloud  many 
times  round  her  head.  Her  face  was  now 
almost  purple  from  excitement. 


236  DALLY 

11  Mother,"  said  Mr.  Winslow,  anxiously, 
"  you'll  do  yourself  a  damage  if  you  ain't 
careful.  You'll  bust  something  in  your 
head." 

"  Don't  you  speak  to  me,"  was  the  re- 
sponse, with  great  stress  upon  the  last  word 
of  her  sentence. 

Marietta  had  disappeared.  The  moment 
her  mother  opened  the  outer  door  the  girl 
joined  her  with  her  hat  and  jacket  on.  She 
was  told  "  to  go  into  the  house  this  instant." 
But  she  did  not  obey.  She  walked  on  be- 
side her  mother,  whom  she  informed  that 
"  if  anybody  was  going  over  to  the  Widder 
'Bijah's  that  day,  she  was  going  too." 

This  open  rebellion  added  to  Mrs.  Wins- 
low's  rage  and  astonishment.  To  use  her 
own  words,  she  "  felt  as  if  the  world  was 
comin'  to  an  end." 

She  walked  as  fast  as  she  had  ever  done  in 
her  youth,  when  she  had  had  less  avoirdupois 
to  contend  against.  By  her  side  her  daugh- 
ter kept  on  her  way. 

It  was  not  one  o'clock.  People  had  eaten 
dinner,  but  had  not  yet  resumed  work.  The 
elder  woman  did  not  choose  the  pasture 
path,  but  went  by  the  road. 


DALLY 


237 


Mr.  Bailey,  smoking  his  pipe  in  his  yard, 
saw  the  two  go  by.  He  went  to  the  corner 
of  his  house  that  he  might  watch  them  far- 
ther. He  had  intended  to  nod  at  them,  but, 
though  they  seemed  to  see  him,  they  gave 
no  sign  of  recognition.  He  hurried  into  the 
house,  and  told  his  wife  that  "  Peter  Wins- 
low's  wife  'n'  daughter  'd  jest  gone  by  like 
the  very  old  scratch."  He  hinted  that  it 
would  be  well  if  Mrs.  Bailey  could  make  an 
errand  over  to  Winslow's,  and  thus  have  a 
chance  to  discover  "  what  was  up." 

The  two  kept  up  their  rate  of  speed,  and 
by  the  time  they  turned  into  the  Jacobs 
yard  Mrs.  Winslow  was  panting  so  heavily 
that  she  was  obliged  to  lean  against  the 
fence  a  moment.  Marietta  would  have  gone 
on  to  warn  the  household  of  what  was  com- 
ing, but  she  was  held  fast.  When  they  did 
enter,  by  the  porch,  they  saw  Dally  clearing 
the  dinner-table,  while  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  stir- 
ring with  a  wooden  ladle  something  in  a  large 
iron  kettle  on  the  stove.  The  woman  from 
the  poorhouse,  "  old  Aunt  Judson,"  with  the 
shaking  head,  had  not  yet  finished  her  visit, 
and  was  sitting  in  the  arm-chair  where  Mari- 
etta had  seen  her.  The  wrinkled  face  showed 


238  DALLY 

signs  of  interest  and  eagerness  as  these  two 
callers  entered  so  abruptly.  Mrs.  Judson 
tried  to  whisper  to  her  hostess  that  she 
guessed  "  that  Mis'  Winslow's  temper  was 
gittin'  the  best  of  her  agin."  The  old  wom- 
an almost  smacked  her  toothless  lips  in  an- 
ticipation of  some  kind  of  a  scene.  She 
grasped  her  chair -arms,  and  tried  to  hold 
herself  still  as  she  waited  and  listened. 

The  widow  evidently  strove  to  take  a  good 
hold  of  her  self-control.  She  turned  and  put 
some  chairs  for  her  visitors.  She  told  Mrs. 
Winslow  that  she  was  trying  out  her  leaf- 
lard,  but  she  didn't  think  it  would  be  as 
white  as  it  should  be  to  be  the  best  kind. 

Marietta  caught  hold  of  Daily's  skirt  as 
she  was  taking  some  dishes  to  the  sink.  She 
made  her  mouth  form  the  words,  "  Dreadful 
time!"  But  Dally  did  not  need  this  infor- 
mation. She  had  seen  Mrs.  Winslow's  face, 
and  was  righting  with  herself.  Something  of 
the  old  furious  sense  of  injustice  and  hatred, 
which  this  woman  had  roused  in  her  as  a 
child,  came  again  to  her.  She  had  the  im- 
pulse to  spring  upon  her  now  as  she  sprang 
upon  her  when  the  attempt  had  been  made 
to  take  the  puppy  away. 


DALLY 


239 


Marietta,  glancing  fearfully  at  Daily's  face, 
was  freshly  alarmed  at  what  she  saw  there. 

Mrs.  Winslow  could  not  waste  her  time  in 
any  reply  to  Mrs.  Jacobs's  remark  about  her 
leaf-lard.  She  did  not  wish  to  say  a  word 
that  should  not  have  a  barbed  point  to  it. 
And  she  had  an  unaccustomed  fear  lest  when 
she  began  to  speak  she  should  stammer.  She 
did  not  know  what  that  meant. 

She  could  not  see  anything  but  old  Aunt 
Judson's  trembling  head  the  other  side  of  the 
great  kettle  of  fat ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  it 
was  because  of  that  head  that  she  found  for- 
cible speech  so  difficult. 

Every  instant  she  thought  the  right  word 
would  come. 

"•  You  ain't  's  well  's  common  to-day,  be 
ye?" 

Mrs.  Jacobs,  as  she  asked  this  question, 
turned,  with  the  stick  held  over  the  pot  and 
dripping  fat. 

"  I'm  jest  's  well  's  I  c'n  be,"  burst  out 
Mrs.  Winslow.  "  I  had  ter  come — Thodor 
Graham  ! — that  gal  done  it ! — she  done  it — 
she — " 

Dally  had  wheeled  round,  facing  that  un- 
wieldy form  and  that  crimson  countenance. 


240 


DALLY 


She  stood  erect  and  quivering.  The  wild, 
panther-like  blood  in  her  was  boiling  as  it 
had  hardly  done  since  this  same  woman  had 
provoked  her  before. 

But,  as  she  looked,  her  attitude  seemed  to 
change  without  the  moving  of  a  muscle.  She 
stood  the  same,  but  her  aspect  was  different. 

Mrs.  Winslow  was  still  saying,  thickly, 
"She  done  it,"  but  her  lips  were  clumsy. 
Her  face  had  become  contorted,  her  head 
began  to  loll,  and  her  hands  fumbled  at  her 
neck. 

Mrs.  Jacobs's  ladle  fell  into  the  kettle  with 
a  splash  that  sent  some  hot  fat  on  to  Aunt 
Judson's  cheek. 

The  widow  took  hold  of  Mrs.  Winslow's 
shoulders,  and  sustained  them  against  herself 
while  she  tore  open  the  gown  at  the  throat. 

"  Dally,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  clearly,  "  ride 
the  horse  to  the  Centre  for  the  doctor.  Mis' 
Winslow's  got  a  stroke." 

Dally  was  half-way  to  the  barn  before  the 
sentence  was  finished.  It  was  hardly  a  mo- 
ment before  she  had  the  bridle  on  the  horse 
and  was  galloping  him,  bare-backed,  out  of 
the  yard. 

Marietta  stood  up  helpless  until  she  re- 


DALLY  241 

ceived  two  or  three  concise  directions,  which 
she  obeyed. 

In  a  short  time  the  two  had  laid  the  wom- 
an on  a  mattress  on  the  floor,  and  propped 
her  head  high.  A  mustard-plaster  was  put 
on  the  back  of  her  neck  and  on  the  soles  of 
her  feet.  Her  face  kept  its  dreadful  color, 
and  her  breathing  its  sound. 

"  It's  all  we  can  do  now,"  at  last  said  Mrs. 
Jacobs.  She  looked  at  Marietta,  who  was 
wringing  her  hands  and  making  a  little  moan- 
ing noise. 

"  Run  over  'n'  tell  your  father  to  bring  his 
express  wagon  with  some  mattresses  'n'  pil- 
lers,"  she  said,  mercifully  giving  the  girl 
something  to  do. 

Marietta  turned  to  the  door.  She  came 
back  and  asked,  in  a  whisper: 

"  Is  she  going  to  come  out  of  it  ?" 

"  I  guess  she'll  git  some  better,  anyway," 
was  the  reply. 

Marietta  ran  across  the  pasture  towards 
her  home.  How  could  she  help  it  that,  amid 
all  the  horror  of  the  moment,  there  was  an 
unmistakable  feeling  of  relief?  She  would 
take  care  of  her  mother  for  any  length  of 
time ;  nobody  ever  had  better  care  than  her 
16 


242  DALLY 

mother  should  have.  She  knew  her  father 
would  do  everything  he  could,  too.  Marietta 
was  shocked,  but  how  could  she  be  smitten 
with  grief?  She  felt  very  wicked  because 
she  could  not  overcome  that  feeling  of  re- 
lief. It  was  in  vain  that  she  tried  to  put  it 
from  her.  She  kept  thinking  of  the  peace 
and  freedom  of  the  household  if  its  mistress 
should  continue  helpless.  Her  mother  had 
never  been  tender  with  her.  All  the  tender- 
ness in  that  heart  had  been  given  to  William, 
who  "was  just  like  the  Joneses." 

She  found  her  father  in  the  barn,  fodder- 
ing the  cows. 

"  Father,"  she  cried  out,  "  mar's  got  a 
stroke !" 

Mr.  Winslow  had  his  pitchfork  loaded  with 
hay.  He  dropped  it. 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  he  said.  "  There 
wouldn't  no  stroke  dare — " 

Then  he  saw  his  daughter's  face,  which 
told  him  the  truth  more  plainly  than  her 
words  had  told  it. 


XIX 

DALLY'S  ANSWER 

!HE  Jacobs  neighborhood  became  rec- 
onciled immediately  to  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Winslow  had  had  a  "stroke," 
and  could  not  now  move  the  left  side  of  her 
body.  One  man  went  so  far  as  to  say  that 
it  must  be  "  a  massy  to  her  husband  "  that 
her  tongue  was  so  stiff  she  could  only  speak 
with  the  greatest  difficulty.  Peter  himself 
went  about  his  work  with  a  very  long  face. 
He  unconsciously  made  his  face  longer  be- 
cause of  the  relief  that  was  in  the  very  bot- 
tom of  his  heart. 

Like  his  daughter,  he  felt  a  sense  of  wick- 
edness on  account  of  that  relief;  but  the 
emotion  persisted  and  grew.  His  wife  was 
not  dead.  She  was  only  providentially  pre- 
vented from  making  the  household  unhappy. 
They  could  take  care  of  her. 

Mr.  Winslow  soon  began  to  whistle  as  he 
sauntered  around  the  farm.  But  if  he  saw 


244  DALLY 

any  one  coming,  he  stopped  whistling.  A 
hundred  times  a  day  he  told  himself  that  the 
breaking-off  of  Marietta's  engagement  was 
"  mighty  lucky." 

He  had,  however,  an  unformulated  wish 
that  the  parting  between  the  lovers  might 
have  been  deferred  until  the  falling  of  the 
stroke,  when  there  would  have  appeared  to 
be  a  definite  reason  why  Marietta  must  now 
stay  at  home  and  relinquish  the  honor  of 
being  Graham's  wife.  As  it  was,  the  father 
could  not  help  thinking  that  the  whole  affair 
was  very  mysterious.  He  communed  with 
himself  a  great  deal  on  the  subject.  Some- 
times, when  alone  in  the  woods,  "  thinning 
out  the  trees,"  he  would  lean  on  his  axe  and 
say  aloud  that  "  gals  was  mighty  curious 
things." 

The  closest  observation  he  could  bring  to 
bear  on  his  daughter  showed  her  to  be  as 
cheerful  as  was  consistent  with  her  moth- 
er's condition.  He  would  strike  his  axe  very 
hard  into  the  wood  when  he  wondered  if 
Graham  could  have  ill-treated  her. 

If  girls  were  curious,  he  felt  also  that  boys 
were  not  entirely  lacking  in  that  quality. 
There  was  something  about  Bill  he  did  not 


DALLY  245 

understand.  He  was  so  manly,  so  controlled, 
and  almost  austere — and  what  was  he  think- 
ing about  that  brought  that  vertical  line  be- 
tween the  straight  brows  ? 

The  man  decided  that  children  were  "  tre- 
mendous puzzles"  when  they  were  grown 

up- 
Young  Winslow  came  home  in  response 
to  the  news  sent  him.  His  mother  wept  co- 
piously. She  was  eager  to  say  something  to 
him.  This  something  was  finally  found  to 
be  a  question  as  to  whether  Thodor  Graham 
had  really  delivered  the  flannels  and  the  bar- 
berry preserve.  She  learned  that  they  had 
been  received,  but  not  that  Graham  had  for- 
gotten them,  and  had  afterwards  forwarded 
the  parcels  by  express. 

The  young  man  only  remained  through 
one  day.  His  mother  was  in  no  immediate 
danger,  and  Bill  said  it  was  a  bad  time  for 
him  to  leave  his  studfes  now. 

He  had  a  half-hour's  interview  with  his 
sister. 

Marietta  thought  her  brother  very  much 
preoccupied.     He  kept  walking  about  the 
room  with  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets. 
Suddenly  he  stopped  in  front  of  her,  where 


246  DALLY 

she  stood  watching  him.  He  put  a  hand  on 
each  shoulder. 

"  Dear  old  Met,"  he  said,  his  familiar  voice 
going  to  the  girl's  heart,  "  I  hope  you  haven't 
been  too  hard  hit." 

She  trembled  under  his  touch,  but  she 
looked  at  him  bravely. 

"Not  so  hard  that  I  sha'n't  get  over  it," 
she  answered.  "  Of  course  it  hurts  to  be  for- 
saken. But  I  sh'll  stand  it.  Don't  blame 
Thodor  too  much.  He  couldn't  help  it." 

It  was  a  great  aid  to  Marietta  to  be  thus 
near  Bill  for  a  moment. 

After  a  short  silence,  still  with  his  hands 
on  her  shoulders,  the  young  man  said  : 

"And  she?" 

"  She  isn't  to  blame,  either,"  was  the  quick 
reply. 

Bill  turned  away  to  the  window,  and  put 
his  hands  back  in  his  pockets. 

"  But  what  does  she  think  of  Graham  ? 
Has  she  told  you  ?  Do  you  guess?" 

"  She  hasn't  told  me,  and  I  can't  guess. 
She  said  once  that  he  wasn't  worthy  of  me." 

"That  means  nothing." 

Marietta  flushed  in  instant  defence  of 
Dally. 


DALLY 


247 


"  It  means  that  she  meant  exactly  what 
she  said,"  she  exclaimed,  hotly. 

Her  brother  turned  towards  her  with  a 
smile  that  was  full  of  affection  and  approval. 

"  Met,"  he  said,  "  you're  a  trump  !" 

An  hour  later  he  told  his  sister  that  he 
should  walk  over  to  the  Farnham  station,  and 
should  stop  at  the  Widder  'Bijah's.  Then 
Marietta  informed  him  that  Dally  was  not  at 
home.  She  had  been  sent  unexpectedly  to 
Fall  River  for  a  week  to  help  a  niece  of  Mrs. 
Jacobs,  whose  baby  was  sick. 

As  she  said  these  words,  Marietta  looked 
searchingly  at  the  face  before  her.  She  saw 
its  disappointment,  but  she  could  not  read 
clearly  any  farther. 

It  was  on  the  fourth  day  after  Mrs.  Wins- 
low's  seizure  that  Theodore  Graham  called 
to  inquire  after  her. 

Marietta  met  him  at  the  door,  and  told 
him  that  her  mother  could  see  no  one.  She 
was  startled  at  the  haggard  expression  of  his 
face.  He  pushed  by  her,  and  the  two  stood 
in  the  sitting-room. 

"  I've  been  out  to  Chicago,"  he  said,  "  since 
I  was  here  last.  Thought  a  little  change 
might  be  good  for  me.  So  I  shirked  my 


248  DALLY 

work  and  left.  Didn't  know  but  I  might  see 
things  clearer  if  I  got  away." 

He  spoke  very  rapidly,  and  looked  all  about 
the  room. 

"  Did  the  trip  do  you  any  good  ?"  she  asked. 

"Not  a  bit." 

She  could  not  think  of  anything  more  to 
say,  her  visitor  was  so  distrait.  He  kept 
pullihg  his  left-hand  glove  off  and  on.  Mari- 
etta was  calm  and  self-possessed.  She 
could  watch  the  worn  face  that  revealed  the 
unhappiness  of  its  owner. 

"  He  is  having  a  great  deal  worse  time 
than  I  am,"  she  said  to  herself.  Then,  aloud : 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  be  so  wretch- 
ed now." 

"No;  I  s'pose  not.  Women  don't  know 
much  about  love." 

She  was  silent. 

"Do  forgive  me!"  he  exclaimed. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  He  took 
it  in  a  tight  clasp. 

"  Is  she  at  home?"  he  inquired. 

Marietta  told  him.  He  was  evidently  sur- 
prised, as  if  Dally  could  not  be  away,  save  at 
Mrs.  Lander's. 

When  he  left,  ten  minutes  later,  Marietta 


DALLY  249 

knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  said  so  that  he  was 
going  straight  to  Fall  River.  The  time  had 
come  when  it  seemed  absolutely  necessary 
that  he  must  see  Dally.  He  had  thought 
he  would  wait  a  month  or  so ;  he  imagined 
it  would  be  more  decent  not  to  rush  to  Dally 
the  moment  he  had  left  Marietta. 

You  cannot  take  a  train  from  Farnham 
just  when  you  feel  inclined.  The  trains 
through  such  places  appear  to  run  more  as 
a  means  of  discipline  to  humankind  than  as 
an  accommodation.  But  some  of  these  trains 
do  stop,  and  thus  Graham  was  enabled  to  get 
to  Boston,  and  then  to  Fall  River  by  dusk  of 
that  same  day. 

He  waited  in  a  very  small  and  very  hot 
parlor  for  "  Miss  Jacobs  "  to  appear. 

He  had  not  sent  in  his  name.  She  did 
not  keep  him  waiting.  Very  soon  the  door 
opened,  and  Dally  entered. 

Graham's  face  flushed  swiftly  at  sight  of 
her.  It  almost  seemed  to  him  that  she  must 
know  he  would  have  to  come  to  her. 

She  also  flushed  when  she  recognized  him  ; 
but  she  was  soon' very  pale,  and  continued 
so  through  the  interview. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you,"  she  said,  without 
any  previous  greeting. 


250  DALLY 

He  began  with  startling  abruptness,  and 
his  voice  was  harsh : 

"  It's  not  fair,  then,  that  I  should  be  so 
glad  to  see  you — so  glad  that  I  haven't  any 
words.  I've  been  mad  for  one  glimpse  of 
your  face.  That  sounds  sensational,  but 
some  sensational  things  are  true.  There's 
no  other  way  to  begin  to  express  what's  in 
me.  I'm  just  mad  for  you.  You've  made  a 
different  man  of  me  ;  you — " 

Here  Dally  made  a  slight  gesture.  She 
was  standing  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"  I  thought  you  had  no  words,"  she  said, 
with  a  hint  of  a  smile. 

She 'did  not  know  that  she  smiled.  She 
was  conscious  only  of  a  grave  distress.  But 
at  the  same  time  she  was  surprised  that  it 
should  be  such  an  impersonal  feeling.  She 
had  suffered  more  keenly  when  her  dog  had 
a  thorn  in  his  foot. 

Graham  almost  groaned. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
tell  you  there  ain't  any  words  that  express 
what  I  want  to  say.  I  had  to  come  to  you. 
I  was  driven  on  by  something  I  couldn't  re- 
sist. Dally  " — he  stepped  to  her  side — "  don't 
be  cruel  with  me  !  Don't !" 


DALLY  251 

Graham  had  never  before  felt  the  extreme 
limitation  of  human  speech,  as  he  was  mas- 
ter of  it.  He  could  only  look  at  her  now, 
and  his  heart  sent  passionate  pleading  into 
his  face. 

"You're  so  hard!"  he  murmured,  a  mo- 
ment later.  The  girl's  face  appeared  remote 
and  severe. 

She  stood  very  straight,  and  looked  up  di- 
rectly in  his  face.  Her  hands  were  clasped 
behind  her  in  the  childish  attitude  Marietta 
and  Bill  would  have  remembered. 

"Am  I  so  hard?"  she  asked.  "I  do  not 
feel  so.  I  feel  sorry  that  you  hadn't  the 
good  fortune  to  continue  to  love  Marietta. 
How  blind  you  are  !  Blind  !" 

"  But  I  love  you,"  began  Graham.  He 
pressed  nearer,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  put 
out  his  hand  to  her. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it."  Graham  at  first 
could  only  utter  an  incoherent  explanation. 
It  was  monstrous  that  she  should  refuse  to 
believe  in  the  existence  of  something  that 
was  like  a  consuming  fire  to  him. 

"  Not  believe  it?"  he  stammered.  "  How 
dare  you  say  that  to  me?" 

He  lifted  up  his  hands  in  a  violent  gesture. 


252  DALLY 

He  had  never  felt  so  tortured  and  so  help- 
less. He  was  choking  with  his  baffled  pas- 
sion. 

"  I  say  it  because  I  do  not  love  you  one 
particle  ;  therefore,  it  appears  impossible 
that  you  should  love  me.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive of  a  love  not  mutual.  There  may  be 
a  flaming  up  of  some  emotion,  but  it  will 
soon  die.  If  I  lived  a  thousand  years,  I 
should  never  love  you.  You  ought  to  have 
known  it  and  have  spared  us  both  this  inter- 
view." 

She  spoke  very  gently,  but  with  extreme 
decision.  Her  face  was  softening  now.  She 
could  not  continue  to  look  upon  his  suffer- 
ing without  pity. 

He  turned  away,  and  was  evidently  mak- 
ing a  great  effort  towards  a  degree  of  self- 
control. 

"  Why  should  I  have  known  that  you 
could  never  love  me?"  he  asked.  "Am  I 
such  a  monster?  You  don't  take  much 
pains  to  help  me  bear  the  blow." 

"I  was  afraid  you  might  not  see  how  im- 
possible it  is  that  I  should  love  you.  It 
seemed  better  to  make  it  all  plain  at  first." 

"  You  have  made  it  perfectly  plain,"  re- 


DALLY  253 

sponded  Graham,  with  great  bitterness.  "  I 
must  be  even  more  stupid  than  I  have  been 
if  I  could  hope  anything  from  you  now." 

He  had  a  vague  wish  to  assume  an  ap- 
pearance of  courage  and  manliness.  He 
wanted  to  say  something  noble  and  mag- 
nanimous. She  would  remember  him  more 
pleasantly  if  he  could  leave  her  in  that 
way. 

He  stood  looking  helplessly  at  her.  He 
could  not  say  one  noble  word.  He  could 
only  gaze,  with  the  intolerable  certainty 
that  he  must  go;  that  he  must  never  look 
at  her  again  in  this  way. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  leave  you,"  he  said  at 
last,  after  several  moments  had  passed  in  si- 
lence. 

"  But  you  should  go,"  she  returned,  almost 
in  a  whisper.  "  It  does  no  good  for  you  to 
stay." 

"Not -the  least  good;  only  here  I  may 
look  at  you.  You  have  no  idea  what  it  is 
for  me  to  look  at  you,  Dally." 

The  girl  trembled  at  this.  Her  voice  was 
unsteady  as  she  said,  hurriedly: 

"  Oh,  you  must  go  ! .  I  am  so  sorry  !  So 
sorry !  Now  go  !" 


254  DALLY 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  As  he  took  it 
he  asked,  piteously : 

"  Are  you  sure  there  isn't  any  hope  for 
me?" 

"  Sure.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by." 

He  hurried  out  of  the  room  and  into  the 
street. 

Dally  stood  a  short  time  where  he  had 
left  her.  Her  hands  were  pressed  tightly 
together,  and  her  eyes  widely  opened. 

As  she  turned  towards  the  door  she  was 
thinking: 

"  If  Marietta  had  loved  him  with  all  her 
heart,  she  would  be  even  more  unhappy 
than  I  am.  He  will  go  back  to  her  in  time. 
Mrs.  Lander  says  it  doesn't  make  so  much 
difference  to  a  man  what  woman  he  marries. 
Can  that  be  true  ?" 

She  held  the  door  in  her  hand,  lingering 
until  she  could  join  her  hostess  calmly. 


XX 

BARKER  SETTLES  WITH  THE  DODSONS 

iVEN  if  old  Aunt  Judson's  head  did 
shake  all  the  time,  and  if  she  did 
laugh  in  an  almost  imbecile  manner, 
she  had  mind  enough  to  take  in  the  suspi- 
cion that  Peter  Winslow's  wife  had  come 
over  to  charge  Dally  with  something  that 
day  she,  Mrs.  Winslow,  "  got  her  stroke." 
And  it  was  something  about  Thodor  Gra- 
ham and  Marietta.  She  put  this  suspicion 
and  the  fact  that  "  Thodor  wa'n't  a-goin'  with 
Marietta  now  "  together,  and  the  two  formed 
a  very  fructifying  subject  of  thought  for  her. 
She  sat  there  by  the  hot  stove  for  several 
days  and  thought.  She  talked  a  good  deal 
about  how  Mrs.  Winslow  had  looked  and 
spoken  that  noon,  when'the  blow  fell  upon 
her.  It  was  all  very  interesting.  But  she 
couldn't  make  any  remarks  concerning  the 
other  part  of  the  subject  here  at  Mrs.  Ja- 
cobs's  house. 


256  DALLY 

She  had  meant  to  continue  her  visit  un- 
til after  Thanksgiving,  for,  as  she  often  as- 
serted, "  the  widow's  victuals  jest  suited 
her." 

The  desire  to  be  where  she  could  discuss 
with  a  sympathetic  listener  all  that  was  in 
her  mind  proved  greater  than  the  desire  for 
the  victuals  that  suited  her. 

The  afternoon  before  Thanksgiving  she 
announced  to  Mrs.  Jacobs  that  if  it  would 
be  convenient  she  would  like  to  be  taken 
over  to  her  niece  Betsey's,  in  Smithville. 

Dally  harnessed  the  horse  into  the  old 
covered  wagon.  Aunt  Judson  was  wrapped 
up  in  shawls  and  quilts  and  "  boosted  "  on  to 
the  back  seat.  Dally  gathered  up  the  lines 
and  the  whip,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  told  her  to 
"be  sure  and  not  stop  a  minute  in  Smith- 
ville, for  the  days  were  so  short." 

Coming  back  alone  along  the  lonesome 
way,  over  which  the  shadows  were  gather- 
ing already,  Dally  saw  ahead  of  her  a  figure 
which  she  recognized.  It  was  Barker.  He 
was  slouching  as  usual.  He  had  an  empty 
bag  over  his  shoulder. 

Though  he  must  have  heard  the  horse's 
feet  and  the  wheels,  he  did  not  look  round 


DALLY 


257 


until  they  stopped  beside  him  and  the  girl 
asked  him  to  get  in,  for  she  "  could  give 
him  a  lift." 

He  sat  down  beside  her.  She  immediate- 
ly became  conscious  of  the  old  feeling  of 
self-reproach  because  she  was  not,  and  could 
not,  be  glad  to  see  him. 

He  did  not  look  at  her.  To  her  great 
surprise  he  began  talking.  Again  he  asked 
her  if  she  didn't  miss  the  mountains. 

She  tried  to  be  very  gentle  with  him. 
She  told  him  that  she  often  dreamed  of  the 
mountains,  and  then  longed  for  them. 

"  But  we've  found  good  friends  here, 
Barker." 

He  grunted.  He  shuffled  his  feet.  Then 
he  said,  almost  with  animation,  and  with 
some  contempt : 

"I  know  yer.  You-uns  done  weaned 
from  thur  mountings."  He  now  actually 
looked  at  her  as  he  said:  "You-uns  is  in 
lurv,"  with  great  derision. 

Dally  turned  upon  him  savagely. 

"  In  love  !  You  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about !  Love  isn't  for  me." 

Barker  hunched  his  shoulders  and  was  si- 
lent. He  wondered  how  she  could  fire  up 
17 


258  DALLY 

so  sometimes.  It  was  so  foolish,  and  it 
must  require  energy. 

She  whipped  the  horse.  The  darkness 
was  now  coming  quickly  on.  Up  above 
them  in  the  dusk  was  heard  the  clanging 
noise  of  a  flock  of  wild  geese  flying  low 
down  on  their  way  south. 

"  I  wish  I  war  urn,"  said  Barker;  "I  reck- 
on they  be  gwine  ter  thur  South." 

"  Yes,  they  are." 

Another  silence,  which  Barker  broke. 

"I've  gurt  some  reck'nin'  ter  settle  with 
them  Dodsons.  I'm  'bout  ready,  I  be. 
Thur's  reck'nin's  ter  settle,  an'  I'll  settle 
'em." 

"  Barker,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I'll  let  yer  know — I  don't  mean  nothin'." 

He  drooped  his  head  and  did  not  speak 
again.  Very  soon  he  left  her  to  go  across 
the  fields  to  the  Dodson  farm. 

In  fifteen  minutes  more  Dally  had  driven 
into  the  barn  and  was  unharnessing  by  the 
light  of  the  lantern,  which  had  been  placed 
there  for  her.  She  was  so  depressed  that 
she  could  eat  little  supper.  She  told  Mrs. 
Jacobs  a  part  of  what  her  brother  had  said, 
and  Mrs.  Jacobs  tried  to  restrain  her  anger 


DALLY  259 

against  the  little  wretch  who,  she  supposed, 
was  "just  as  God  made  him." 

Before  she  went  to  bed,  Dally  walked 
over  to  inquire  about  Mrs.  Winslow,  and  to 
take  some  citron  preserve  with  which  Mrs. 
Jacobs  had  had  "  extry  good  luck."  "  The 
poor  critter  likes  to  be  remembered,"  said 
the  widow;  "  V  she  can't  do  much  more 
harm  in  this  world  now." 

Marietta  was  tired  from  a  hard  day's 
work,  cooking  and  cleaning.  She  was  ly- 
ing on  the  old  lounge  in  the  kitchen  when 
Dally  softly  opened  the  door  and  came  to 
her  before  she  could  rise.  She  felt  her 
friend's  cool  hand  on  her  forehead,  and  she 
put  up  both  arms  and  drew  Dally  down  to 
her  side. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  get  discouraged,"  said 
Dally. 

"Your  voice  sounds  as  if  you  were  dis- 
couraged yourself,"  was  the  response. 

"I  ought  not  to  be,  since  I've  just  taken 
old  Aunt  Judson  to  Smithville,"  replied 
Dally,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I'm  thankful  she's  gone,"  exclaimed 
Marietta,  fervently.  "  I  couldn't  go  there 
and  hear  her  tell  me  I  better  have  held  on 


26o  DALLY 

to  Thodor  Graham."  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"  He  went  to  Fall  River  to  see  you  ?" 

"  Yes.     He  understands  now." 

"  That  you  can't  love  him  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  it's  true  that  you  can't?" 

"Yes." 

Dally  put  her  head  down  near  Marietta's 
cheek. 

"  If  he  comes  back  to  you  some  day,  what 
shall  you  say  to  him  ?" 

Marietta  sat  up,  with  her  arm  round  her 
companion. 

"  I  should  say  I  didn't  think  we'd  better 
be  more  than  friends,"  she  answered,  with 
unmistakable  decision. 

Presently  Dally  went  away.  She  opened 
the  door  again  just  as  Marietta  had  kindled 
a  lamp,  and  the  light  fell  full  on  Daily's  face. 
She  had  forgotten  a  message,  which  she  now 
delivered.  Her  friend  was  impressed  by  the 
peculiar  vividness  of  the  eyes  and  mouth — 
the  something  haunting. 

"  Dally  !"  cried  Marietta,  "  what  are  you 
thinking  about  ?" 

Dally  smiled.  "Just  this  moment,  about 
the  mountains." 


DALLY  26i 

"  What  mountains  ?"  wonderingly. 

"  Why,  my  mountains  in  Carolina.  Bar- 
ker was  talking  of  them.  He  seems  to  have 
them  a  great  deal  on  his  mind." 

Marietta  came  to  the  door.  "  Isn't  it  too 
bad  that  Bill  thinks  he  can't  come  for 
Thanksgiving  to-morrow  ?"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  it  is.     Now,  good-night." 

Dally  did  not  fall  asleep  very  soon  when 
she  went  to  her  bed  that  evening.  She  was 
well,  but  slumber  would  not  come  before 
midnight.  She  was  thinking  about  Barker 
and  what  he  had  said.  She  was  always  un- 
happy when  she  thought  of  him,  and  this 
night  she  was  particularly  so. 

But  at  last  she  was  asleep.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  was  wakened  almost  immediate- 
ly by  some  one  pronouncing  her  name  by 
her  bedside.  She  started  up  bewildered. 
The  late  moonlight  came  in  through  her 
window  and  revealed  Barker  standing  there. 

She  sat  up  and  put  her  hand  out  towards 
him  in  fright  and  surprise. 

"  How  did  you  get  in  ?"  she  asked,  in  a 
whisper. 

"  Easy  'nough.  By  thur  pantry  winder. 
Didn't  yo'  hear  yer  houn'  bark?" 


262  DALLY 

"  No.  Oh,  Barker,  you  haven't  hurt  my 
dog?" 

"  No,"  contemptuously.  "  He's  in  thur 
barn  Avhar  yo'  shurt  him.  I  curm  to  tell  yo' 
I'm  er  gvvine." 

"Going?     Where?" 

"To  thur  mountings.  I  ain't  er  gwine  ter 
live  'thout  thur  mountings  no  longer.  I 
didn't  reckon  tu  make  quite  sech  er  soon 
start,  but  that  ole  Dodson  'oman  ain't  bear- 
able no  longer,  she  ain't." 

"  Go  down-stairs  softly  and  wait  for  me. 
Don't  wake  aunty.  I'll  go  out  with  you." 

He  went  out  as  noiselessly  as  he  had  come. 
Dally  had  not  dared  to  talk  with  him  any 
longer  there.  She  hurriedly  dressed  and 
wrapped  a  gray  blanket  from  the  bed  about 
her.  She  joined  her  brother  and  the  two 
went  out  into  the  frosty  air  of  the  Novem- 
ber night.  Moon  and  stars  were  clearly 
shining. 

"  Yo'  mout  er  stopped  inside,"  said  Barker, 
ungraciously.  "  I  ain't  gurt  nothin'  to  say, 
only  jest  I'm  er  gwine.  If  yo'  wa'n't  sech  er 
pore  thing  an'  in  lurv,  yo'd  go  with  me." 

A  sudden  wave  of  wild  longing  for  those 
mountains  where  she  had  been  so  unhappy 


DALLY  263 

came  over  Daily's  soul  as  she  heard  those 
words.  What  if  she  should  run  away  with 
Barker,  and  thus  forever  escape  what  had 
become  a  complicated  life  here? 

She  had  in  her  so  much  of  the  savagery, 
the  simplicity  of  the  first  woman,  that  she 
felt  herself  unable  to  deal  with  any  of  the 
simplest  complications  that  arise  in  life. 
There  was  something  dreadful  to  her  in  the 
fact  that  Graham  loved  her  when  he  ought 
to  love  Marietta.  She  had  asked  herself  if 
her  sudden  and  prolonged  absence  would 
make  matters  right  again.  Of  course  Gra- 
ham did  not  really  love  her,  because,  as  she 
had  told  him,  she  did  not  return  that  feeling. 
But  for  the  present  he  was  under  the  delu- 
sion of  passion. 

Again  she  asked  herself  how  it  would  be 
if  she  were  to  go  with  her  brother?  The 
wave  of  a  rebellious  wish  to  fly,  she  knew 
not  where,  only  it  must  be  to  some  moun- 
tains, rose  yet  more  swiftly  and  powerfully. 

Then  it  ebbed  away  with  a  strange  sud- 
denness, leaving  her  trembling  with  a  peril- 
ous tenderness  and  an  emotion  she  could  not 
combat. 

"  I  cannot  go,"  she  said,  quietly.     "  I  can- 


264  DALLY 

not  leave  aunty.  And  how  wretched  we 
should  be  down  there !  Think  of  old  Tid  !" 
Dally  shuddered.  She  took  hold  of  Barker's 
arm  forcibly. 

"  Why  do  you  go  ?  Why  won't  you  stay 
here  and  be  a  respectable  man  ?  Come  and 
live  with  us.  Oh,  why  do  you  like  such  a 
life?" 

Barker  did  not  try  to  withdraw  his  arm. 
He  gazed  at  the  face  near  him. 

"  Yo'  an'  me  ain't  no  ways  erlike,"  he 
said.  "  But  if  yo'  cared  fur  me  as  yo'  make 
believe  yo'  do,  yo'd  go  with  me,  yo'  would. 
I  know  how  'tis.  Yo'  jest  can't  care,  an'  yo' 
keep  er  trying  tu  care.  I  don't  wan't  no 
sech." 

He  flung  off  her  hand.  His  words  had  gone 
straight  to  her  heart.  She  sobbed.  He  stood 
silent,  still  looking  at  her. 

"  Be  yo'  gwine  with  me  ?  I've  gurt  money 
'nough  fur  er  spell,  till  I  kin  git  more.  Will 
yo'  go?" 

"I  can't!     I  can't!" 

He  sneered.  She  tried  to  think  of  some- 
thing to  say,  but  she  had  no  words. 

"  'Tain't  no  ways  likely  I'll  ever  see  yo' 
ergain." 


DALLY  265 

He  turned  away.  She  sprang  after  him 
and  flung  her  arms  about  him,  kissing  him 
and  again  begging  him  to  "come  and  live 
with  them." 

After  a  moment  he  put  her  from  him  and 
walked  off  a  few  steps.  He  paused  to  tell 
her  she  needn't  worry  about  him.  He  could 
take  care  of  himself.  And  "  mabby  he'd 
send  her  word  some  day." 

He  added,  triumphantly :  "  Thur  Dodsons 
'11  find  I've  paid  um  urp.  I've  fixed  sumpin 
so't  they'll  find  their  house  afire  'fore  many 
hours ;  they  will,  cuss  um  !  I  ain't  their 
nigger." 

Now  he  walked  off  more  rapidly  than 
Dally  had  ever  seen  him  move.  She  shouted 
to  ask  if  he  meant  what  he  said.  He  broke 
into  a  run.  He  was  gone. 

She  stood  a  moment  as  one  stands  who 
does  not  comprehend.  Then  it  came  fully 
home  to  her  understanding  that  Barker 
had  spoken  truth.  It  was  like  him  to  re- 
venge himself  ;  and  he  had  told  her  he 
meant  to  "  settle  a  reckoning "  with  the 
Dodsons. 

It  was  still  some  moments  before  any  defi- 
nite idea  of  action  came.  It  was  nearly  four 


266  DALLY 

miles  to  the  Dodsons.  It  was  quite  possible 
she  might  ride  there  in  time  to  warn  them. 
Barker  was  sly  enough.  He  would  arrange 
to  be  out  of  the  way  before  the  fire  would 
take  entire  possession. 

Now  Dally  moved  very  quickly.  She  went 
to  the  barn  and  put  saddle  and  bridle  on 
the  horse.  The  hound  kept  snuffing  at  her 
and  whining.  The  wide  barn  door,  flung 
open,  gave  her  plenty  of  moonlight.  She 
left  the  horse  standing,  and  ran  towards  the 
house. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  met  her  at  the  door  with  a 
light  in  her  hand.  She  had  heard  Daily's 
voice  shouting  to  Barker. 

She  could  not  do  less  than  hasten  Daily's 
departure.  She  dared  not  suggest  getting 
some  one  else  to  go,  for  fear  of  the  delay. 
It  was  a  lonely  road,  between  pastures  and 
through  woods,  but  Dally  was  a  fearless 
rider. 

When  the  girl  and  the  dog  had  started, 
Mrs.  Jacobs  finished  dressing,  and,  taking  a 
lantern,  notwithstanding  the  moon,  she  went 
down  the  road  towards  her  nearest  neighbor, 
who  was  Mr.  Peter  Winslow. 

"  He  will  harness  right  away,"  she  said  to 


DALLY  267 

herself.  "  We'll  rouse  what  folks  we  can.  I 
sh'll  go  with  him.  We  won't  be  more'n  half 
an  hour  behind  her." 

Although  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  anxious,  she 
did  not  feel  really  worried  about  Dally. 

The  old  horse  galloped  on  down  the  still 
road.  He  had  had  speed  in  him  once,  and 
when  Dally  was  on  his  back  he  always  re- 
sponded nobly.  The  hound  swept  along 
by  her  side.  The  sound  of  the  hoofs  re- 
sounded. 

With  every  moment  that  passed  Dally  felt 
her  depression  leaving.  By  the  time  she  had 
ridden  two  miles,  the  air  and  the  motion  had 
made  her  almost  gay  with  that  primitive, 
elemental  flow  of  spirits  which  can  be  in- 
spired in  one  who  goes  through  space  on  a 
horse's  back.  To  all  such  influences  this  girl 
was  peculiarly  sensitive.  Anything  out  of 
doors,  untrammelled,  appealed  to  something 
kindred  in  her.  All  untamed  things  seemed 
to  find  her  of  their  own  blood. 

But  as  she  mounted  a  hill  within  about  a 
mile  of  her  destination,  her  mind  came  back 
forcibly  to  the  present.  She  could  look  down 
upon  the  Dodson  house.  One  look  was  suf- 
ficient for  her.  She  saw  a  small  flame  com- 


263  DALLY 

ing  up  through  the  roof  near  the  chimney. 
The  rest  of  the  building  appeared  to  be  rest- 
ing tranquilly  under  the  moonlight.  The 
old  horse  went  down  the  hill  as  recklessly  as 
if  he  had  been  a  colt. 


XXI 

CONCLUSION 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  intended,  it  was 
not  more  than  half  an  hour  before 
she  and  Peter  Winslow  were  follow- 
ing Dally.  Marietta  could  not  leave  her 
mother ;  she  stood  in  the  doorway  and 
watched  the  wagon  as  it  rattled  off.  She 
wished  she  had  been  Dally,  who  had  gone  on 
horseback.  As  she  turned  back  into  the 
chilly  kitchen  with  its  one  kerosene  lamp 
she  felt  strongly  that  life  was  very  common- 
place. 

Mr.  Winslow  whipped  his  horse  a  great 
deal,  but,  as  he  said,  "  the  critter  couldn't 
git  her  spavin  limbered  up  short  of  about 
ten  mild."  Therefore  it  was,  or  seemed,  a 
great  while  before  they  reached  the  top  of 
that  hill  where  Dally  had  paused. 

When  these  two  looked  from  that  emi- 
nence, Mr.  Winslow  uttered  a  great  exclama- 
tion and  lashed  the  whip  again  on  his  poor 


270  DALLY 

horse.  The  Dodson  house  had  been  burn- 
ing so  long  that  its  roof  had  fallen  in,  and 
now  it  was  the  timber  skeleton  that  was 
flaming. 

They  found  Mr.  Dodson  running  help- 
lessly about  the  yard,  picking  up  things  and 
putting  them  down.  In  answer  to  anxious 
inquiries,  he  said  he  believed  "  Mis'  Dodson 
was  some  bruised,  or  something.  She  'n' 
Dally  was  out  to  ther  barn  ;  but  as  for  him, 
somebody  'd  got  to  have  a  head  on  their 
shoulders." 

As  Mrs.  Jacobs  turned  impatiently  away, 
Mr.  Dodson  added,  as  an  afterthought  of 
little  consequence,  that  he  "  s'posed  they'd 
ben  burnt  in  their  beds  if  it  hadn't  ben  for 
Dally." 

The  barn  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road.  Its  wide  doors  were  opened.  As  Mrs. 
Jacobs  hurried  through  them  Mrs.  Dodson 
came  to  meet  her.  She  was  wrapped  in  an 
old  "  comforter,"  and  she  looked  more  for- 
lorn than  ever.  She  grasped  the  widow's 
hands  and  cried  out,  tremulously  :  "  She  jest 
saved  my  life,  she  did !  He  was  asleep  on 
the  settee  in  the  kitchen,  'n'  he  dars'n't  com 
up-stairs !  But  she  did  !" 


DALLY 


271 


She  began  to  sob  violently  and  hysteri- 
cally. "  He  dars'n't !"  she  repeated. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  shook  her. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  she  asked. 

For  reply,  Daily's  voice  came  cheerfully 
from  a  pile  of  hay. 

"  Here  I  am,  aunty !  Not  much  hurt, 
either.  I  was  looking  for  you." 

In  truth,  she  did  not  look  very  much  in- 
jured, though  she  did  not  rise  when  Mrs. 
Jacobs  bent  over  her.  The  hound  was  lying 
close  beside  her,  and  flopped  his  tail  heavily 
in  greeting  to  the  new-comer. 

"  I  don't  think  the  fire  hurt  me  much," 
she  said,  eagerly,  "  for  'I  put  a  wet  towel 
round  my  head  before  I  started  up -stairs, 
and  I  crept  on  my  hands  and  knees.  It  was 
after  I  got  her  out  that  a  beam  hit  me,  some- 
how. I  am  so  thankful  I  could  save  her  !  So 
thankful !" 

She  shut  her  eyes  as  she  spoke  the  last 
words. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  was  perfectly  calm.  She  had 
Dally  taken  home.  She  sent  back  imme- 
diately for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dodson,  but  Mr. 
Winslow  took  them  to  his  own  house. 

Dally  was  put  on  the  bed  in  the  room 


272  DALLY 

leading  from  the  kitchen,  the  same  bed 
where  she  had  slept  when  she  had  first 
come. 

As  she  lay  there,  smiling  with  cheer  at  the 
widow,  she  said  it  was  odd  how  much  she 
had  been  thinking  of  the  mountains  lately. 
But  she  supposed  that  was  on  account  of 
Barker.  *At  his  name  she  trembled,  and  was 
silent. 

The  doctor  reached  the  house  about  day- 
light on  Thanksgiving  Day.  He  and  Mrs. 
Jacobs  were  calmly  cheerful. 

Neighbors  began  to  call  to  make  inquiries. 
Mr.  Winslow  procured  some  one  to  stay  with 
his  wife,  and  sent  Marietta  over  to  help.  It 
was  Marietta  who  saw  every  one  that  called. 
Mrs.  Jacobs  sat  by  Dally.  She  had  some 
knitting  in  her  hands.  She  seemed  to  be 
knitting.  Once  Dally  said  : 

"'Aunty,  you're  letting  down  a  great  many 
stitches." 

Sam,  the  dog,  lay  on  the  mat  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed.  Sometimes  he  would  walk  around 
to  the  side ;  then  a  hand  would  be  put  out 
to  him.  He  would  lick  it,  and  lie  down  in 
his  old  place. 

Mr.  Winslow  had  ridden  off  about  noon 


DALLY 


273 


to  Farnham  to  send  off  two  telegraphic  mes- 
sages. One  was  from  Marietta  to  her  broth- 
er. The  other  was  from  Mrs.  Jacobs  to  Mrs. 
Lander. 

The  doctor  had  said :  "  She  may  live  a  few 
days." 

Mrs.  Jacobs  sat  day  and  night  in  her  place. 
She  prayed  continually.  Not  that  Dally 
might  live,  but  that  God  would  give  his  aid 
to  a  life  without  her. 

It  was  God  who  was  doing  this  ;  God  who 
had  let  Barker  do  what  he  had  done. 

The  woman  never  doubted  that  the  hand 
of  the  Almighty  was  in  it.  But  how  should 
she  bear  it  ?  Whether  she  endured  the  blow 
well  or  ill,  it  was  coming.  Over  and  over  she 
recalled  every  incident  connected  with  Dally, 
from  the  time  the  child  had  appeared  at  the 
gate  that  first  day.  The  rain  had  been  on 
her  hair  and  eyelashes.  The  gate  had  been 
hard  to  open.  Mrs.  Jacobs  saw  again  the 
tanned  little  hand  put  out  from  the  cloak  to 
pull  at  the  latch.  And  the  child  had  called 
for  whiskey. 

Such  poignant  anguish  had  never  before 
come  to  this  woman's  life.     She  was  con- 
stantly saying  to  herself: 
18 


274  DALLY 

"  I've  got  to  bear  it.     I've  got  to  bear  it." 

She  thanked  the  Lord  fervently  that  she 
was  getting  into  years.  At  sixty-three  one 
cannot  expect  an  overwhelming  number  of 
days  and  weeks  and  months  to  live.  And  at 
sixty-three  one  has  lost  all  the  elasticity  which 
enables  youth  to  rebound  from  sorrow.  There 
is  nothing  to  do  then  but  to  bow  down  and 
to  endure. 

Once,  as  the  widow  sat  there  going  over 
all  this  in  her  mind,  Dally  opened  her  eyes 
and  looked  intently  at  her. 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  on  Barker,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  shuddered. 

"  I'll  pray  not  to  be  too  hard,"  she  an- 
swered, tenderly. 

"  I  wanted  to  love  him  more,"  murmured 
the  girl,  "  but,  somehow,  I  couldn't."  Then 
she  went  on,  more  quickly:  "He  couldn't 
guess  that  I  should  be  hurt  so." 

She  shut  her  eyes,  and  said  to  herself: 
"  He's  gone  to  thur  mountings.  How  they 
used  to  look  at  sunrise  and  sunset !  And  al- 
ways standing  there !" 

Many  times  an  hour  Marietta  would  come 
to  the  door  and  look  silently  in,  holding  her- 
self quiet  by  an  intense  effort.  If  Dally  saw 


DALLY 


275 


her,  she  smiled  with  the  same  melting  glow 
of  eyes  that  had  so  often  penetrated  to  Mari- 
etta's soul. 

The  girl  would  move  quickly  away,  then 
rush  to  the  remotest  part  of  the  house,  where 
she  would  wring  her  hands  and  cry  out. 

In  that  little  room  from  which  she  had 
just  fled  in  her  anguish  the  girl  knew  there 
lay  the  one  being  in  the  world  who  could  put 
a  glamour  on  e very-day  life  for  her. 

Marietta  would  have  said  she  did  "  not 
know  the  words  to  it,"  but  she  was  keenly 
alive  to  the  fact  of  that  indescribable  "  pri- 
meval magnetism  "  which  was  always  a  part 
of  Daily's  personality,  and  which  had  drawn 
and  held  the  New  England  girl  with  unbreak- 
able cords.  As  Marietta  stood  there  in  the 
far  part  of  the  house,  the  memory  of  how 
Dally  had  been  to  her  from  the  very  first — 
how  warm,  how  sweet,  how  audaciously  ten- 
der— overwhelmed  her  anew. 

The  next  morning  the  man  who  took  Mr. 
Dodson's  place  for  the  time  brought  Mrs. 
Lander.  The  telegram  had  reached  her  so 
that  she  could  take  the  night-boat  for  Fall 
River. 

Marietta  was  watching  for  her,  and  for  an- 


276  DALLY 

other.  Mrs.  Lander  was  wrapped  in  furs, 
and  seemed  like  an  invalid.  She  sat  down 
in  the  sitting-room,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on 
Marietta  some  moments  before  she  spoke. 

"They  will  let  me  see  her?"  she  said,  in  a 
whisper.  Then  she  leaned  her  head  forward 
on  her  hands,  and  the  elegant  figure  shook 
with  a  sorrow  that  its  owner  half-resented, 
but  to  which  she  must  yield. 

"  She  crept  into  my  very  heart,"  she  said 
to  herself. 

The  girl,  standing  near,  tried  to  speak,  but 
could  not. 

Soon  Mrs.  Lander  went  to  her  room.  She 
became  composed,  and  there  came  back  to 
her  something  of  that  manner  which  was 
peculiarly  her  own,  and  to  which  Dally  had 
always  been  so  susceptible. 

Daily's  face  lighted  almost  brilliantly  when 
the  lady  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her.  But 
Mrs.  Lander  could  not  sit  down  there  qui- 
etly. She  glanced  in  wonder  at  Mrs.  Jacobs. 
She  felt  suffocated.  She  left  the  room,  but 
she  was  continually  returning  to  it. 

There  was  very  little  to  do  for  Dally,  and 
what  there  was  Mrs.  Jacobs  did  with  a  touch 
that  was  as  firm  as  it  was  tender. 


DALLY 


277 


No  one  but  Marietta  knew  that  young 
Graham  came  every  hour  or  two  to  the  door 
to  ask  how  Dally  was ;  that  he  hung  about 
in  the  fields  near;  that  he  drove  furiously 
for  a  mile  or  two  away,  and  then  returned ; 
that  he  was  suffering. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  second  night. 
Mrs.  Lander  was  walking  softly  back  and 
forth  over  the  worn  sitting-room  carpet. 
Marietta  had  for  the  moment  fallen  asleep 
in  her  chair  by  the  stove.  In  the  little 
bedroom  Dally  seemed  to  rest.  The  hound 
lay  on  his  mat.  Often  he  turned  his  head 
towards  Mrs.  Jacobs,  who  sat  in  her 
place. 

Mrs.  Lander  heard  a  quick  but  guarded 
step  approaching  the  house.  She  went  si- 
lently and  opened  the  front  door.  Will 
Winslow  stepped  over  the  threshold  —  or, 
rather,  it  seemed  the  ghost  of  him.  • 

He  was  breathing  heavily.  Mrs.  Lander 
held  out  both  hands  to  him.  He  did  not 
see  them.  He  leaned  against  the  wall,  his 
eyes  on  her  eyes. 

She  seized  his  coat.  Her  heart  melted  at 
what  she  saw  in  his  gaze.  Here,  indeed,  was 
agony. 


278  DALLY 

"  She  is  yet  with  us,"  she  said.  "  But,  oh, 
why  are  you  so  late  ?" 

"  The  message  was  delayed.  I  came  the 
first  moment.  Oh,  I  could  have  walked 
faster  than  the  cars  moved !" 

He  was  greatly  broken.  He  tried  hard  to 
become  partially  composed. 

"  I  must  see  her." 

Mrs.  Lander's  perception  was  rarely  at 
fault.  She  did  not  linger  or  make  any  in- 
quiries as  to  the  fitness  of  what  she  did.  She 
took  Winslow's  hand,  and  led  him  straight 
to  where  Dally  lay. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  just  glanced  at  him ;  he  saw 
nothing  save  the  face  on  the  pillow.  He 
bent  over  it.  Dally  opened  her  eyes,  and 
met  the  look  pouring  upon  her.  She  put 
out  her  arms.  Her  face  was  suffused  with  a 
love  so  absolute  that  it  seemed  almost  to 
smite  with  its  glory  those  who  saw  it. 

"  Oh,  my  God !"  cried  Mrs.  Jacobs,  under 
her  breath.  "  Has  she  loved  him  so  ?" 

As  for  the  man  and  woman,  they  said  noth- 
ing. 

No  need  now  for  Winslow  to  explain  how 
he  had  resolved  to  wait  until  his  graduation 
before  he  offered  his  love  in  set  terms.  No 


DALLY 


279 


need  to  tell  of  his  doubt  and  his  suffering 
when  he  knew  of  Graham's  passion.  No 
need  to  make  it  understood  that  he  had 
wanted  her  to  be  free  to  accept  that  pas- 
sion, if  her  heart  so  prompted. 

Winslow  felt  that  there  was  no  need  of 
anything  more  on  this  earth. 

Mrs.  Lander  had  left  the  room.  For  the 
first  time  Mrs.  Jacobs  turned  to  go,  that  these 
two  might  be  alone.  But  Daily's  voice  called 
her,  and  the  voice  was  almost  strong  and 
quite  joyful. 

"  Don't  go,  aunty,"  she  said.  "  You  see 
Bill  has  come." 

She  put  out  one  hand  to  Mrs.  Jacobs;  her 
eyes  remained  fixed  on  her  lover's  face. 

For  a  moment  nothing  seemed  to  stir  in 
the  room,  save  that  the  dog  came  from  his 
place  and  put  his  nose  up  on  the  bed. 

"  Sam  is  glad,  too,"  whispered  Dally. 

A  few  days  later,  and  Marietta  had  gone 
back  to  her  home  and  to  the  care  of  her 
mother.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  anything  had 
changed,  save  in  her  heart. 

Mrs.  Lander  went  to  New  York.  She  tried 
to  take  Mrs.  Jacobs  with  her  for  a  visit,  but 
the  widow  said  her  place  was  there  as  long 


280  DALLY 

as  she  lived,  and  that  perhaps  God  would 
not  make  her  live  a  great  while. 

When  the  depot  carriage  had  driven  off 
with  Mrs.  Lander,  Mrs.  Jacobs  sat  down  in 
her  old  rocker  and  looked  about  her.  To 
her,  also,  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  had  changed 
save  in  her  heart. 

Daily's  dog  came  walking  slowly  from  the 
bedroom,  and  placed  himself  at  her  feet.  He 
looked  up  at  her  and  whined. 


THE  END. 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  JANIZARIES. 

A  Tale  of  the  Times  of  Scanderbeg  and  the  Fall  of 
Constantinople.  By  JAMES  M.  LUDLOW,  D.D., 
Litt.D.  16mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

The  author  writes  clearly  and  easily ;  his  descriptions  are 
often  of  much  brilliancy,  while  the  whole  setting  of  the  story  is 
of  that  rich  Oriental  character  which  fires  the  fancy. — Boston 
Courier. 

Strong  in  its  central  historical  character,  abounding  in  inci- 
dent, rapid  and  stirring  in  action,  animated  and  often  brilliant 
in  style. —  Christian  Union,  N.  Y. 

Something  new  and  striking  interests  us  in  almost  every  chap- 
ter. The  peasantry  of  the  Balkans,  the  training  and  govern- 
ment of  the  Janizaries,  the  interior  of  Christian  and  Moslem 
camps,  the  horrors  of  raids  and  battles,  the  violence  of  the  Sul- 
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server,  N.  Y. 

An  altogether  admirable  piece  of  work — jacturesque,  truthful, 
and  dramatic. — Newark  Advertiser. 

A  most  romantic,  enjoyable  tale.  ...  AS  affording  views  of 
inner  life  in  the  East  as  long  ago  as  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  this  tale  ought  to  have  a  charm  for  many ;  but  it  is 
full  enough  of  incident,  wherever  the  theatre  of  its  action  might 
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The  author  has  used  his  material  with  skill,  weaving  the  facts 
of  history  into  a  story  crowded  with  stirring  incidents  and  un- 
expected situations,  and  a  golden  thread  of  love-making,  under 
extreme  difficulties,  runs  through  the  narrative  to  a  happy  issue. 
— Examiner,  N.  Y. 

One  of  the  strongest  and  most  fascinating  historical  novels  of 
the  last  quarter  of  a  century. — Boston  Pilot. 


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OUR   ITALY.      Illustrated.       8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  Uncut 
Edges  and  Gilt  Top,  $2  50. 

Mr.  Warner  is  a  priuce  of  travellers  and  sight-seers—so  genial,  so 
kindly,  so  ready  to  be  pleased,  so  imperturbable  under  discomfort,  so 
full  of  interpretation,  so  prophetic  iu  hope.  .  .  .  Iu  this  book  are  a 
little  history,  a  little  prophecy,  a  few  fascinating  statistics,  many  in- 
teresting facts,  much  practical  suggestion,  and  abundant  humor  and 
charm.—  Evangelist,  N.  Y. 

A  LITTLE   JOURNEY  IN   THE  WORLD.     A  Novel.     Post 
8vo,  Half  Leather,  $1  60. 

The  vigor  and  vividness  of  the  tale  and  its  sustained  interest  are  not 
Its  only  or  its  chief  merits.  It  is  a  study  of  American  life  of  to-day, 
possessed  with  shrewd  insight,  and  fidelity. — GEOKOK  WILLIAM  CURTIS. 

A  powerful  picture  of  that  phase  of  modern  life  in  which  unscrupu- 
lously acquired  capital  is  the  chief  agent.—  Boston  Post. 

STUDIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  AND  WEST,  with  Comments  on 
Canada.     Post  8vo,  Half  Leather,  $1  75. 

Perhaps  the  most  accurate  and  graphic  account  of  these  portions  of 
the  country  that  has  appeared,  taken  all  in  all.  ...  A  book  most 
charming — a  book  that  no  American  can  fail  to  enjoy,  appreciate,  and 
highly  prize.— .Boston  Traveller. 

THEIR  PILGRIMAGE.     Richly  Illustrated  by  C.  S.  REINHAUT. 

Post  8vo,  Half  Leather,  $2  00. 

Mr.  Warner's  pen-pictures  of  the  characters  typical  of  each  resort, 
of  the  manner  of  life  followed  at  each,  of  the  humor  and  absurdities 
peculiar  to  Saratoga,  or  Newport,  or  Bar  Harbor,  as  the  case  may  be, 
are  as  good-natured  as  they  are  clever.  The  satire,  when  there  is  any, 
is  of  the  mildest,  and  the  general  tone  is  that  of  one  glad  to  look  on 
the  brightest  side  of  the  cheerful,  pleasure-seeking  world  with  which 
he  mingles.— Christian  Union,  N.  Y. 


.PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

K3f  The.  above  works  will  lie  sent  &;/  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part 
of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


SEVEN  DREAMERS. 

A  Collection  of  Seven  Stories.    By  ANNIE  TRUMBULL 
SLOSSON.     pp.  286.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental, 


A  charming  collection  of  character  sketches  and  stories 
— humorous,  pathetic,  and  romantic— of  New  England 
country  life.  The  volume  includes  "How  Faith  Came 
and  Went,"  "Botany  Bay,"  "Aunt  Randy,"  "Fishin' 
Jimmy,"  " Butterneggs,"  "Deacon  Pheby's  Selfish  Nat- 
ur',"  and  "  A  Speakiu'  Ghost." 


They  are  of  the  best  sort  of  "  dialect"  stories,  full  of  humor 
and  quaint  conceits.  Gathered  in  a  volume,  with  a  frontispiece 
which  is  a  wonderful  character  sketch,  they  make -one  of  the 
best  contributions  to  the  light  literature  of  this  season.  —  Ob- 
server,  N.  Y. 

Stories  told  with  much  skill,  tenderness,  and  kindliness,  so 
much  so  that  the  reader  is  drawn  powerfully  towards  the  poor 
subjects  of  them,  and  soon  learns  to  join  the  author  in  looking 
behind  their  peculiarities  and  recognizing  special  spiritual  gifts 
in  them. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

These  stories  are  of  such  originality,  abounding  in  deep  pa- 
thos and  tenderness,  that  one  finds  himself  in  perfect  accord 
with  the  writer  as  he  reads  of  the  hallucinations  of  these  he- 
roes.—  Watchman,  Boston. 

Dreamers  of  a  singular  kind,  they  affect  us  like  the  inhabit- 
ants of  allegories — a  walk  of  literary  art  in  which  we  have  had 
no  master  since  the  pen  dropped  from  the  faint  and  feeble  fin- 
gers of  Hawthorne,  and  which  seems  native  to  Mrs.  Slosson. — 
N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

The  sweetness,  the  spiciness,  the  aromatic  taste  of  the  forest 
has  crept  into  these  tales. — Philadelphia  Ledger. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

above  work  will  be  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part 
of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


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